


Memoirs: The Reaper War

by Sharrukin



Series: Memoirs of Liara T'Soni [3]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Adventure, Complete, F/M, Mild Sexual Content, Romance, Science Fiction, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 22:11:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 60
Words: 246,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2444966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharrukin/pseuds/Sharrukin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finally the Shadow Broker and the galaxy's champion have found their way back together. Now they face the greatest challenge in history: the return of the Reapers. To defeat this foe, Liara and Shepard will have to work miracles . . . but in the end, they may find the cost too great to bear.</p><p>Revised and polished version of a novel originally published to FanFiction.net. Standard disclaimers apply.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Broker and Champion

**_22 June 2578, T’Soni Lineage Estates, Armali/Thessia_ **

Consider a small sitting room at night, only a little light coming from the nearby corridor, or through the windows from outside.

An asari appeared there, crossing the floor to kneel in front of a cold fireplace. Even in the darkness she moved with careful assurance, placing fuel and tinder, striking a long match, carefully tending the fire until it crackled with light and warmth. Once the flames burned brightly, she stood, gathering a white silk gown around her like armor.

An observer would have seen an ordinary matron of average height, slender and fit. Her face showed no unusual markings, only a spray of dark freckles across her cheeks and a matched pair of thin arcs over her eyes. At the moment she seemed drawn and pale, her eyes sunken with fatigue, as she sat in a large over-stuffed chair and stared into the newborn flames.

She did not move for a long time.

“Liara?”

The asari who had lit the fire turned, and saw someone standing in the doorway: another mature matron, petite but strong, her skin pale blue, her face marked by a spray of white dapples, her eyes silver with dark rims.

“I’m sorry, Vara. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Vara crossed the room, knelt, and then sat on the floor at her bondmate’s feet, leaning against her legs with boneless grace. “You didn’t disturb me. What’s wrong?”

“Hmm. Bad dreams, that’s all.” Liara sighed deeply. “Today’s the twenty-second of June, by the human calendar.”

“Is it? I must have lost track.”

“I saw an article about the Day of Remembrance on an extranet news feed. Then I went to sleep, and got more remembrance than I really wanted.”

Vara pressed her cheek against her bondmate’s leg, a wordless gesture of comfort. Liara’s hand moved to caress the other’s crest.

“Every year, the galaxy loudly celebrates the end of the war against the Reapers,” said Vara. “Those of us who were actually _there_ tend to stay quieter about it.”

“For good reason. Three hundred and ninety-two years, and I still wake up trembling sometimes.”

“So do I.”

“Goddess. It was so _close_. Even those of us who survived lost . . . so many things.”

Vara sighed, staring into the flames. “I know. I miss him too, Liara.”

To both of them, _he_ only meant one person.

“You know,” said Vara after a time, “I haven’t seen anything of your book in a while.”

“I stopped working on it. I haven’t even looked at it in almost half a year.”

Silence followed for a long minute, broken only by the crackle of the flames.

“Why?”

“I’m not sure. I had gotten all the way to the Battle of Bahak, and what came immediately after. The real horror didn’t begin until months later.”

“Maybe something else is discouraging you.” Vara turned to look up into her bondmate’s face. “I know you started writing because you wanted to give the galaxy some hope. Remind everyone of what _he_ did for all of us, encourage them to live up to _his_ example. But the news hasn’t been very good, has it?”

“No.” Liara her head fall, to rest against the chair back, and closed her eyes. “Barbarians run wild out in the Traverse, that weird human cult keeps spreading, and the Confederation seems helpless to do anything about it. I’m beginning to wonder if anyone would care, even if I did finish the book.”

“You don’t really believe that.”

“No, I suppose not. Still. My enthusiasm for the work has suffered.”

“Liara T’Soni, I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you simply _give up_ on something important.”

Liara smiled wanly. “Don’t try to guilt me into anything, Vara. Not in the small hours of the morning, right after a nightmare.”

“All right. Sorry.” Vara rested her head against her lover’s knee once more. “I’ll wait and guilt you into it after the sun comes up, if you prefer.”

“Please.”

They sat quietly for a long time. Finally Vara looked up and saw Liara’s eyes closed, her lips slightly open, her breath deep and even.

She shook her head, rose carefully to her feet, and tenderly covered her bondmate with a light blanket. Then she padded out of the room, to sleep in her own bed for the rest of the night.

In the morning, Liara T’Soni began to write once more.

* * *

**_10 February 2186, Shadow Broker Vessel/Hagalaz_ **

The Shadow Broker stood in the control center at the heart of her ship, evaluating the forces deployed against her. “Report,” she commanded.

“One cruiser, three frigates, two over-strength squadrons of fighters,” answered an asari sensor officer. “They have the new armor, barriers, and weapons upgrades. They’re hailing us.”

“Let’s hear it.”

_“Shadow Broker, this is Colonel Alexandre da Silva of the Cerberus cruiser_ Vigilance _. You are surrounded and outgunned. Lower your defenses and prepare to be boarded. You have my word that you and your personnel will not be harmed.”_

“Defense, you have free-fire authorization,” said T’Soni, her voice still utterly calm. “Get those Cerberus ships out of my sky.”

For decades the Shadow Broker’s vessel had hovered in one of the terminator zones of Hagalaz, riding an eternal lightning storm, drawing power from the violence of its environment. It had rarely exercised its full capacity to direct the energy it stored. Now its kinetic barriers crashed into place, powerful enough to stand up to a dreadnought’s main gun. Weapons turrets popped out from the hull, swiveling to aim at the Cerberus invaders. Within moments, the air filled with torpedoes.

Cerberus was not caught by surprise. _Vigilance_ immediately retreated, permitting its smaller companions to move forward and begin strafing the airship’s massive hull. GARDIAN lasers began to rake the sky, fleetingly visible as they flash-vaporized stray water droplets or dust particles in the atmosphere. Then the cruiser’s spinal Thanix cannon boomed, sending streams of plasma-hot metal to gouge at the airship’s defenses.

Unfortunately, while the airship had many virtues, _maneuverability_ was not one of them.

T’Soni felt the deck rock under her feet, then again harder. She tried not to think about what kind of force could make a ship so massive recoil so strongly. She heard a distant roar, as Cerberus weapons fire breached some compartment.

“Four fighters down,” reported a batarian voice. “Five. Six. Direct hit on frigate Alpha.”

_“I need that cruiser dead!”_

“Working on it.”

Too late. _Vigilance_ scored a direct hit amidships, knocking down the airship’s kinetic barrier with a flash of light, tearing the hull open and smashing one of the great engines.

_“Goddess!”_ The Shadow Broker looked around her control center, seeing red lights on console after console. For a moment, she couldn’t understand why everything had become so quiet.

“They’re hailing us again,” said the sensor officer.

She glanced around once more, evaluated the condition of her ship. Realized she would need to buy some time. “I’ll take it.”

This time, she did not see Colonel da Silva on the other end of the communication. Instead: a pale-skinned male human, his dark hair frosted with silver, his blue eyes shining oddly. He took a deep drag on a cigarette and watched the Shadow Broker with keen interest. _“Dr. T’Soni.”_

“Illusive Man.”

_“I hope I can persuade you to surrender now. There’s no point in further resistance.”_

“There is _always_ a point in further resistance. Still, suppose I might be willing to consider a bargain of some kind. What do you propose?”

_“Much the same as you proposed the last time we spoke. Just before you helped Shepard cut ties with Cerberus. The major difference being that I now have the upper hand.”_

“An alliance?”

_“Call it a partnership, with the Shadow Broker as the junior partner. Hand over your resources, your network, to Cerberus control. We’ll use them more effectively than you could to stop the Reapers.”_

“I believe we’ve had this discussion before. Cerberus _can’t_ stop the Reapers, and even if you could, what you promise for the galaxy wouldn’t be much better.”

_“Cerberus isn’t after universal extinction.”_

“No. Only the destruction of all the things that make life worth living.” The Shadow Broker shook her head. “There’s no point in going over this ground again. The answer is _no_.”

_“Don’t be a fool, Doctor. We have you exactly where we want you.”_

“Actually, I suspect the reverse is true.”

The Illusive Man frowned, not understanding her intent.

T’Soni left the channel open, turning to the nearest console and beginning to enter commands. Her airship trembled as the full power of its remaining engines came online.

_“What are you doing, Doctor?”_

She heard an enormous roar, felt the deck shift beneath her feet. The airship rose, began to accelerate.

_“Doctor?”_

She turned back to the Illusive Man, a brave smile on her face. “Better watch your back, Mr. Harper. Your days are numbered. Especially if the Alliance ever chooses to release my bondmate and put _him_ back to work.”

Perhaps the crew of the Cerberus cruiser had been taken off guard. Perhaps they had simply not believed what their sensors reported. In any case, they reacted just a few seconds too slowly to bring their own engines to maximum power and evade.

The Shadow Broker’s airship speared into the side of its foe, hull buckling, enormous spars of metal bending and shattering in the shock of collision. Within instants, both ships were hopelessly entangled, drifting to one side and sinking as gravity began to reassert its dominion. Then one of the mass-effect cores breached, giving rise to an eye-searing explosion.

Two of the Cerberus frigates survived, fleeing with no more than superficial damage. Of the Cerberus cruiser _Vigilance_ and the Shadow Broker’s airship, nothing remained but a few kilotons of wreckage, falling to the surface of Hagalaz far below.

* * *

**_10 February 2186, Hagalaz Orbit_ **

Surrounded by static and white noise, I stepped down from the communications stage. At once, _Sheguntai_ ’s onboard computer cut the quantum-entanglement channel I had used to remotely control the airship’s systems. The holographic emitters on all sides of the stage went inactive. The Strategic Information Center reappeared, ready for anything I might require.

“Do you think they bought it?” I asked the thin air.

_“Looks that way,”_ answered Feron’s rumbling tenor voice, transmitted from his command position in the CIC. _“Both frigates are running scared, straight on a heading for the Osun system. Probably about to push up to FTL . . . ah, there they go.”_

“No sign that they detected us?”

_“None. We ran silent and kept the bulk of Hagalaz between us and them the whole time.”_

“Good.” I glanced across several consoles. “The network is still in good order, even with the airship gone. No significant lag times.”

_“I should hope not, given how much you spent on these mobile command nodes.”_

“Well, hopefully the Illusive Man doesn’t know too much about these ships yet. He may believe for a time that he’s crippled the Shadow Broker’s network. That should give us an advantage.”

_“He probably also thinks you’re dead.”_

“Maybe. If he does, I doubt it will last long. I’ve already used that trick against him once.”

_“Last time, you weren’t as showy about it.”_ Feron paused for a moment, possibly receiving a report from one of his officers. _“Everything looks green. Orders?”_

I stopped, my hands clasped behind my back and my head bowed. I knew where I _wanted_ to go, but I didn’t trust my judgment on the question.

By the human calendar, it was early February of 2186, and time was running very short. According to my best estimate, the Reapers would reach a primary mass relay in no more than two months. The first weight of their assault would fall on Khar’Shan and the Batarian Hegemony. Shortly after that, they would be _everywhere_.

I shook my head. No matter how I set up the question, I kept getting the same answer. I wasn’t making any progress. I needed to consult with my allies. I needed to see Shepard.

“Wait for an hour, and make sure Cerberus didn’t leave any observers behind,” I finally ordered Feron. “Then take us to the primary mass relay, and to Earth.”

_“Understood,”_ said the drell.

* * *

**_12 February 2186, Vancouver/Earth_ **

Admiral Hackett enjoyed a large but rather austere office, with few personal items or pieces of artwork to soften its impact. At least he had a great plate window, with a glorious view of Vancouver harbor. When I arrived, the admiral stood with his back to the door, sipping a cup of coffee and staring out of that window in contemplation. At first, I thought he was alone.

“Liara!”

Then I saw Shepard, already present after all, sitting at the conference table where he hadn’t been visible from the door. He looked at home in Alliance undress blues, even without any rank insignia on his collar. He rose and smiled at me, the admiral’s presence inhibiting anything more demonstrative, although his eyes gleamed a promise for later.

“Shepard. Admiral Hackett.”

The admiral turned, the ghost of a smile on his face as he glanced at the two of us. He crossed to the table and made a gesture, inviting us to be seated. “I’m triple-booked starting in half an hour, so we need to be brief. Will you be staying on Earth for long, Dr. T’Soni?”

“That depends on what we discuss here.” I sighed. “To be honest, I feel as if I’m fighting fog: lots of effort for no obvious result. I’m beginning to think we need to change our strategy.”

Hackett nodded. “Let’s review our status first. Shepard?”

“The Red Team has gamed a number of scenarios based on what we know about Reaper capabilities. We’ve made different assumptions about Alliance preparedness, the dissemination of technological upgrades, the level of help we can get from the rest of the Council species, a few other variables.” Shepard shook his head ruefully. “None of it makes much difference. The notional Reapers always disassemble the Alliance and drive the human race into extinction. It’s just a question of how long it takes. The average estimate is twelve to eighteen months.”

“So what you’re saying is that we can’t defeat the Reapers conventionally,” Hackett stated.

Shepard shrugged. “Most of the Defense Committee members still seem to think it can be done. Somehow. Personally I think they’re in deep denial.”

“Would you advise us to call a halt to Project AEGIS?”

I frowned. AEGIS was the Alliance Navy’s effort to roll bleeding-edge defense and weapons technology out to as many ships as possible. Thanix cannons, Silaris hull armor, cyclonic barrier technology, all the same upgrades that had rendered _Normandy_ capable of meeting and destroying a Collector cruiser. AEGIS had been Hackett’s top priority, ever since the Shastri government ordered a change in Alliance defense strategy.

“No,” said Shepard. “The upgrades are worth doing. They might give our ships more of a chance when the Reapers arrive. I can’t think of any better place to spend the resources we have.”

“But in the end, all it can do is buy us a little more time.”

Shepard nodded, slowly and reluctantly.

“Dr. T’Soni, do you concur?”

“I’m not a military expert, Admiral . . .”

“You have military experts on your staff,” he interrupted me. “What do they say?”

“I’m afraid they have an even lower opinion of your chances than that,” I admitted.

Hackett leaned back in his chair and looked at the two of us. “Then we need a game-changer.”

Shepard and I exchanged a glance. His expression shifted, ever so slightly, but I could read him almost as well as if he had shouted aloud.

_I’ve been effectively locked up for the last four months. I’ve got nothing._

I leaned forward. “I may have a possibility. It’s not much . . .”

“Any port in a storm, Doctor,” said Hackett. “Let’s hear it.”

“Over the last few years, the yahg spent a great deal of time studying the Protheans. He sent his agents out to acquire Prothean artifacts. He reviewed every academic paper he could find on the subject. He sponsored scientific expeditions.” I looked down at the tabletop in embarrassment. “Apparently at one point he even sponsored _me_. Some of the money I used to fund the dig on Therum came from a front corporation owned by the Shadow Broker. He had copies of _all_ of my papers.”

“The Shadow Broker was one of your _fans?”_ asked Hackett, amused.

“Too bad we had to kill him,” said Shepard. “What use is all of that now, though? The Protheans gave us the beacons, and the Conduit on Ilos, but we’ve already used those against the Reapers.”

“The yahg seemed to think there was more out there. The more I consider the evidence, the more I find I agree.” I used my omni-tool to call up a galactic map, illustrating my point with graphics. “Remember that the Reapers struck directly at the Citadel to begin the Prothean extinction. The message from the Eden Prime beacon suggests that this shattered the galactic community into independent regions, which couldn’t easily coordinate their resistance. One of those fragments developed the Conduit. What if other Protheans tried to develop their own strategies to strike back against the Reapers?”

“What are you proposing?” asked Hackett.

“A crash effort to study Prothean records, from all over the galaxy,” I said. “We examine anything we can find from the Fourth Age, the time just before or during the extinction. We look at any artifact or record that might give us more ideas about to how to resist the Reapers. Even knowing what the Protheans tried that _didn’t work_ might be of some use.”

“The Alliance can’t do that on its own,” Hackett objected.

“You _can_ examine Prothean artifacts and archives within your own territory, Admiral. Mars, Eden Prime, a few other worlds. Meanwhile, I can work the scientific community elsewhere, see how many asari and salarian experts I can pull into the effort.”

Shepard shook his head. “This sounds like a terrible long shot, Liara.”

“I know.” I looked at both of them. “I’m afraid I’m out of other ideas.”

Hackett nodded slowly. “Doctor, this sounds like the best thing you could be doing, both as a scientist and as the Shadow Broker. Go ahead. I’ll give you as much support as I can.”

“All right. My network will continue to feed intel to the Alliance, of course.”

“Good.” The admiral checked his omni-tool for the time, took the last sip of his coffee, and stood. Both of us rose as well. “Now I have to go. Shepard, I’ll leave Dr. T’Soni in your charge for the rest of the day. Check in with Lieutenant Vega, but I believe the two of you have meetings scheduled with the Red Team and the Defense Committee.”

Shepard saluted. “Understood, Admiral.”

* * *

The terms of Shepard’s “imprisonment” limited his freedom of movement. He rarely left the secured Alliance Navy compound in Vancouver, keeping up the appearance of being under investigation for a litany of crimes. He spent every evening in his “cell,” a comfortable apartment tucked away deep inside officer’s quarters. There he had almost every comfort, including occasional visitors who had been cleared to know the truth about his status.

Four rooms made up the apartment: living area, kitchen, study, and bedroom. He had only a few personal items. A painting of the first _Normandy_ hung in the living area. A battered N7 helmet and a set of dogtags rested on a side table. Two portraits hung in the study, one of his long-lost family, the other of me. His father’s Bible, old and worn, lay on a corner of the desk. A few other books stood on a nearby shelf. Otherwise Shepard kept the whole place impersonally neat and clean.

At the moment a trail of garments, Alliance Navy undress blues and an asari business ensemble, stretched from the outer door across the entire floor to the bedroom.

I rolled aside, pressing the entire length of my body against him, enjoying a sense of euphoria and pleasant fatigue. Once I felt comfortable, my head tucked into the hollow of his shoulder, I closed my eyes and reviewed the memories I had just acquired from him. I knew he was doing the same.

After a few moments, I sighed. “I must admit, I _do_ enjoy debriefing.”

Shepard chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it called _that_ before.”

“Well. Consider it one of the benefits of marrying an asari. Given how rarely we get to see each other, it saves _hours_ of conversation each time.”

His arm tightened around my waist, his head turned slightly, and I felt his lips caress my crest. “Blue goddess. I wish I could have seen the Illusive Man’s face, when you sent the Broker’s airship on that _kamikaze_ run.”

“Hmm.” I took another deep breath, suddenly feeling serious. “To tell the truth, Shepard, I’m worried about Cerberus.”

“So am I.” He shifted his body slightly, permitting me to slide a leg between his. “I’ve been following all the intel we get, from you and from our own sources, ever since that incident with Paul Grayson. I don’t like what I’ve been hearing about their interest in Reaper technology. Cerberus has a habit of playing with fire. I’m afraid we might all get burned this time.”

“I agree. Some of the news I’ve heard from the Terminus Systems . . .”

“That agreement the Illusive Man reached with Aria T’Loak?”

I nodded. “They’ve been using the Omega-4 Relay, with her permission and support. Visiting the wreckage of the Collector base you destroyed. Goddess alone knows what they’re finding there.”

“It does fit their usual strategy,” he observed. “Cerberus has always wanted to _improve_ their operatives and soldiers. Reaper technology certainly promises one way to do that. Saren was a tough bastard even before _Sovereign_ implanted him, and he became almost unstoppable afterward. Paul Grayson was a sickly red sand addict, and Reaper implants turned him into a biotic super-soldier. If Cerberus can find a way to harness that capability . . .”

“Don’t forget the _control_ aspect,” I reminded him. “Reaper technology also indoctrinates its victims.”

“I don’t get that part. Why would the Illusive Man want to create an army of Reaper agents?”

“Perhaps he thinks he can override the Reapers’ influence. Turn the indoctrination to his own purposes.”

“Hmm. It would have to be very tempting, to someone as obsessed with control as he is. The perfect tyranny, where your subjects never even consider betraying or opposing you.”

We lay in silence for several minutes, each lost in our own thoughts. Slowly I sensed the return of a certain urge.

“Shepard,” I said at last.

“Yes?”

“I’m hungry.”

I could feel the muffled laughter under my arm, like a tremor deep in his body. “T’Soni, you are _outrageous.”_

“I’m also a biotic, and I seem to recall it getting _very_ bright in here a while ago.”

“I suppose I should have fed you first.”

“I was in too much of a hurry. You may feed me _now.”_

“Well.” He stirred, began to slide out from under my arm and leg. I lay back and enjoyed the sight of him rising nude out of the bed. “As it happens, I have anticipated your desires. There’s a very good Thessian sunfish in the refrigerator, along with _soba_ noodles, some fresh salad, and a bottle of Serrice white. Give me fifteen minutes and we can have dinner in bed.”

“What about dessert?”

“I’m sure I can think of something.”

“Hmm. That sounds wonderful. You launch a frontal assault on the kitchen, I will perform a diversionary raid on your shower cubicle, and we can meet back here to compare battle damage assessments.”

“Deal.”

_If only all our strategic decisions were that simple_ , I thought, as I rose and padded across the thick carpet toward the refresher.


	2. Quest

**_26 February 2186, Serrice/Thessia_ **

“It is safe,” said Dr. Passante.

I emerged from the skycar to stand next to her, pulling a veil across my face, even though I hoped there would be no one else nearby to see. I had become altogether too recognizable on Thessia, and I had enemies who might react violently to news that I had returned home. Even a moment’s glance from a stranger might cause no end of trouble.

I followed the older asari across the courtyard, old memories making my pace confident despite the darkness.

“Sneaking Liara T’Soni into the Archives after hours,” my guide murmured. “This is not something I ever thought I would find myself doing again.”

“That makes two of us.” I rested a hand on her shoulder as we walked. “It _is_ good to see you again, Doctor. Even if the circumstances aren’t ideal.”

At the entrance, she opened her omni-tool and entered an access code. The doors opened silently. The two of us entered the front hall, passing between the two statues of Athame that stood guard just inside.

“Please, Liara. We’re colleagues now. My name is Alene.”

“I am honored, Alene.”

“Yet that raises a question. You are no longer one of my undergraduate students. You are a tenured professor at the University, with a teaching chair waiting any time you choose to come home and claim it. You have every right to consult the Archives openly, in the light of day. Why this stealth?”

I shook my head.

_She would never understand about Matriarch Thessala. Or the need to evade Cerberus_.

“I’m sorry, Alene. I can’t go into that. There are political complications.”

“I see.” She turned away, clearly disappointed, but her steps never faltered as she led me into the secured sections of the building. “I’ve missed you, Liara. I have to admit, when you contacted me, I hoped for a moment that you were planning to return to Thessia. For good.”

“I know.”

“You are a superb researcher and a wonderful teacher. You have discovered more in your youth than some asari scientists manage in a thousand years of work. We need you here.”

“To be honest, there are times when coming back home is all I can think about.” I sighed. “It would be so much easier.”

She stopped, turned to examine me. I searched her face as well, the familiar blunt features unmarked by dappling or paint, the eyes that always looked a little bit sad. Her face and figure had changed my time as her student, signs of her upcoming transition into the Matriarch stage.

“It’s been only a few years since I saw you last, yet you have grown a great deal,” she finally observed. “I think it becomes you.”

“Life has been very full,” I admitted.

“So I have heard. Your last two academic papers were rather _startling_. Since then you seem to have spent most of your time on political machinations rather than science. Now I hear you have bonded with that rather infamous human, Shepard . . .”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know what’s driving you, Liara, and it’s not my business to pry. But I am deeply concerned.” She stepped closer, the better to look into my eyes in the dim light. “Your mother and I were friends. She meant well, but her passions consumed her. Whatever it is you’re after, I couldn’t bear to watch the same thing happen to you.”

“It won’t.” I reached out and took her hand. “Alene, I can’t tell you why I’m doing this. I need you to trust me.”

Slowly, she nodded. “I suppose it comes down to that. I do trust you.”

“Thank you,” I breathed.

“Come on, we’re almost there.”

She led me through two more locked doors. Finally we entered a study chamber, one of many distributed around the Archives complex. This one was dedicated to Prothean studies, the most complete collection of research on that subject anywhere in the galaxy. If the Protheans had ever even _hinted_ at a weapon against the Reapers, I expected to find some record of it here.

I sat down and began to work the console. An hour passed. Eventually Dr. Passante caught the drift of what searched for, sat down at the next console and began to help.

Two hours passed. Three hours.

“This can’t _possibly_ be everything that’s here,” I said at last, leaning back from the console in disgust.

“Perhaps what you are looking for does not exist,” Dr. Passante suggested.

“No, that can’t be.” I called up some of the documents I had glanced at earlier and set aside. “Here. Transcripts of Fourth Age inscriptions, from the Karris expedition on Lusia. It’s clear that the Protheans _knew_ of the extinction cycle, even before the Reapers arrived. The only thing they lacked was an understanding of the mechanism.”

She gave me a sharp stare. “How can you be so certain?”

“I can read late Prothean. Wasn’t that clear from my paper on the dig in the Eramethos Mountains?”

“Not entirely. You took care to keep your translation of those text fragments within the confines of what is already agreed upon in the scientific community. I _did_ wonder how you could translate the texts so quickly.”

“While I was traveling with Shepard, before the geth attack on the Citadel, we encountered an ancient life form on the planet Feros. The creature was intelligent, had survived since the Prothean era, and had absorbed a great deal of knowledge about them. Including their spoken and written language.”

“You joined with this creature?”

“At third hand, yes, but the knowledge transmitted cleanly. Unfortunately it’s largely unconscious knowledge. I can’t _speak_ or _write_ Prothean. I’ve never managed to produce a working lexicon for others to use. Even so, I can understand it when I read it.”

“Liara. Even if you could not write out a lexicon, you could still help others with translation.”

“I don’t see how.”

“For shame. Forgetting your basic paleolinguistics like that. How do we decipher ancient languages, when we do not have the advantage of knowledge inherited from mysterious alien creatures?”

“With great difficulty.” I blinked, surprised chagrin suddenly washing through my mind. “Using _parallel texts_ , where those exist.”

“Exactly. Like the famous _Rosetta Stone_ that enabled the humans to decipher one of their own ancient languages. We have never found parallel texts for any of the Prothean dialects and a known language, so it has taken centuries of work to develop even what little knowledge we have. But could you not take some well-known Prothean texts, produce your own clean translations into _koiné_ , and then hand those over to expert linguists? Your translations could serve as parallel texts, the basis for a complete Prothean lexicon and grammar.”

I lowered my face into my hands. “Goddess. I can’t _believe_ I overlooked that.”

“You seem to have had other concerns. Does the scheme seem practical?”

“Certainly it does. I can translate Prothean almost as quickly as I can read it. But how do we get anyone to take my word that the translations are correct?”

“We don’t have to. Consider your translations to be a _hypothesis_ that remains to be falsified. If the lexicon that grows from your work bears fruit when applied to other Prothean texts, the hypothesis grows stronger. If it generates nonsense, it will be discarded. That _is_ how science works, after all.”

“All right. Before I leave Thessia I will produce as many translations as I can. Will you work with the faculty to generate a lexicon and begin testing it? Dr. Orysae would almost certainly be willing to help.”

“Of course.” She gave me an appraising look. “I take it that time is of the essence.”

“Very much so. I’m afraid that the translation of Prothean texts – quickly, correctly, and in complete detail – may soon be a survival skill.”

“That bad?” She took a deep breath. “Well, we will do what we can.”

“That still leaves us with the problem of why there’s almost nothing _here_ of any use. The Protheans _knew_ some threat loomed over them. One would think them desperate to discover its nature and develop a solution.”

“Perhaps most of the relevant work was done elsewhere in the galaxy. Somewhere asari scientists have never explored.”

“I suppose that’s possible. There may be hundreds of Prothean worlds we’ve never found, including their homeworld.” I frowned, my mind suddenly veering down another chain of deductions. “There’s another possibility we should consider.”

Dr. Passante cocked her head at me, waiting.

“What if this collection isn’t complete?”

“I don’t understand.”

“What if data have been _removed_ from it?”

She shook her head. “That’s not possible. The Archives are all but sacred. The curators would _never_ remove anything from the stacks.”

“Are you sure?”

She struggled with the idea.

I found it hard to believe as well. _Freedom of information_ constituted one of the bedrock principles of the Asari Republics. Yet, as the Shadow Broker, I had come across hints that my people held some _very_ deep secrets. Things known only to a few of the Matriarchs, passed down from century to century out of the public’s eye.

In particular, I had discovered that Councilor Tevos knew of the Reapers. Not as a hypothesis to be proven or falsified, but as a terrible and unquestionable fact. Even before Shepard came before the Council and first spoke that dreadful name, _Tevos had already known_.

_Where did she get that knowledge?_

“Let’s dig a little deeper, Alene.” I returned to the console and began typing in commands.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m looking at the metadata: when items were added to the archive; when they were modified; where they are stored in the physical memory space. Who has looked at them, altered them, and possibly even removed them.”

“You can do that?” My mentor leaned close to watch.

“It’s not easy, but yes.”

The Archives were not _designed_ to reveal their inner workings, but I soon found them not absolutely secure. My cyberwarfare skills had been improving, ever since I turned from archaeology to information brokerage. I had been taught by some of the best, including quarian technologists like Tali and Arin. I knew the words necessary to bind and to loose.

“There.” I leaned back and looked up at the big display before us.

“What am I seeing?”

I pointed at dark sections of the display. “Look there . . . and there . . . and especially there. Big blocks of physical memory that _should_ contain Prothean data, accessible to the Archives. Yet they appear to be empty.”

“Perhaps they are.”

“No. Empty blocks would be reallocated, as more information comes into the Archives. At some point there should be a defragmentation, so the Prothean data no longer have these enormous chunks of blank space in their midst. If these blocks are still here, it’s because they actually contain relevant data, but someone has partitioned them off.” I bent to the console once more. “Let’s see if we can get a clue as to what’s in there . . .”

The display went dark, and then a red mandala appeared. _Matriarch’s Seal_.

I opened my omni-tool and recalled a code Arin had once given me, one that had bypassed the Seal on my own entry in the genetic archives. This time it failed to work. I cursed viciously in quarian exoteric dialect, another skill I had learned from Tali and Arin.

“Why would the Matriarchs seal off so much information about the Protheans?” Dr. Passante wondered.

“That is a _very_ good question.” I scowled in frustration. “Alene, I have always wondered something. Just _why_ are Prothean studies so little favored among our people?”

She glanced sharply at me. “You suspect that is not an accident?”

“I don’t know. So few students venture into the specialty, and most of them lose interest somewhere along the way. I can count on my fingers the number of living asari who have done serious work in the field. Once I rather enjoyed that, knowing I would find it relatively easy to make an original contribution. Now I wonder if there isn’t more to it.”

“I suppose it’s possible. Matriarchs subtly using their money and influence, pushing people away from a scientific discipline they find useless?”

“Or that they find _dangerous.”_

She sighed. “I believe I will look into this. Carefully.”

“Do that. In the meantime, if I can’t get the information I need here, I have to figure out where to look next.”

“If what you suspect is true, you will have to look outside asari space. Somewhere the Matriarchs can’t easily reach.”

“Hmm.” An idea sprang into my mind. “Cross-references!”

Dr. Passante smiled. “Yes, I see.”

I pounced on the console once more. “Consider a document that discusses the Protheans, in the context of some location outside asari space. If that document is filed correctly, it should be referenced both here and in the Galactic Cartography section. Now some Matriarch decides that the information is dangerous, and places it under the Seal. But that would create _two copies_ of the Seal, one in each section of the stacks, with _precisely the same timestamp.”_

“Which you can use to associate the sealed Prothean document with a specific place, without having to gain access to the document itself.”

“Exactly.”

Five minutes later, we had a list of eight worlds:

_Eden Prime_  
Eletania  
Garvug  
 _Gei Hinnom_   
_Kahje_   
_Kopis_   
_Mars_   
_Talis Fia_

I sighed. “Well, it’s something.”

“Do you have any idea where you will go first?”

“Eden Prime and Mars are Alliance worlds. I can have my human allies investigate there for now. I’ve already visited the Prothean site on Eletania, and I doubt it has anything useful. Garvug, Gei Hinnom, and Kopis are all hostile worlds, so I would need to mount major expeditions there. That leaves Kahje and Talis Fia.”

“Hanar or volus. Neither sounds like a bargain.”

“No.” I took a deep breath and made up my mind. “I’m owed a few favors on Talis Fia. I will look there first.”

“I may be able to get you some help,” she said brightly, as if an idea had leaped into her mind.

I frowned. I did _not_ want Dr. Passante jumping into my troubles, not if it would put her future status as a Matriarch at risk.

She must have seen my hesitation. “Don’t worry, Liara, I’m too set in my ways to be jaunting around the galaxy. I have someone else in mind.”

“All right.” I shut down the console I had been working with, rose and stretched to ease my stiff joints. “I will stay on Thessia for at least two days, so I can produce our Rosetta Stone. It’s best I stay out of sight, though.”

“You would be welcome to stay with me. I have been living alone for the past few years.”

I almost asked the obvious question, but then I remembered her last bondmate, a male salarian named Damarr. When I last saw him, he had been more than old enough to have passed on in the years since. Best not to reopen any healed-over grief she might be carrying. Instead I nodded and embraced her warmly. “I would be happy to accept your hospitality.”

* * *

**_27 February 2186, Serrice/Thessia_ **

‘ _A-tha-kse-na po-va-shi to ru-te-na ‘u-kha Te-na-ka ‘A-tha-da . . ._

“Tenak Athad departed the Citadel in great haste,” I murmured to myself, double-checking the sense of the text as it filtered through the Cipher in the back of my mind. Satisfied that I had missed no nuances, I entered a few more words into the growing translation on my datapad.

I worked in Dr. Passante’s dining room, the only place in her house where I could spread out a vast array of datapads and printed references. A half-eaten sandwich and an empty wineglass stood to one side, forgotten.

“Liara?”

I reached the end of a paragraph, finished my translation, marked the place, and set the datapad down. Only then did I notice that the sunlight shining through the window had moved all the way across the room since I last paid it any attention.

_Goddess. How long have I been at this?_

Long enough to produce over ten thousand words of translated text, apparently. I rose from my chair, rather stiffly, and went to meet Dr. Passante.

She was not alone. Another asari entered the house with her, very young, pretty, with no markings on her face, dressed in a white-with-blue-accents ensemble rather like my own. I smiled warmly and went to greet the two of them. “Alene. Treeya, it’s very good to see you again.”

Just as I had once been one of Dr. Passante’s students, Treeya Nuwani had once been one of mine. She had not chosen to follow me as an archaeologist, instead earning degrees in xenopsychology and non-asari cultural studies. I had nevertheless served as one of her academic advisors, helping her to earn her doctorate.

We had last spoken about seven months earlier, while Treeya was on Fehl Prime, just before the Collectors struck that helpless human colony. She and two Alliance soldiers had been the only survivors of the attack. Even so, they won the first true victory against the Collectors, destroying the monsters’ ship and recovering a great deal of vital intelligence. They certainly did much better than I had managed a few days before, on Ferris Fields.

I held Treeya at arm’s length to examine her closely. Superficially, she appeared much as I remembered her from my classes, a decade before. A closer look told me she had changed. The lines of her body were harder and more refined, as if she had been taking strenuous exercise. Her eyes evaluated the world around her with a certain cold steeliness, not as wide or innocent as they had once been.

_I wonder if this is what people who knew me years ago see, when they look at me?_

“Dr. T’Soni.” Her voice still sounded soft and sweet, but its tone seemed flatter than I remembered.

“No need for formality between us,” I told her. “Not after what we have both been through.”

She gave a sharp nod. “Liara. It’s good to see you too. I never thanked you properly.”

“For what?”

“For giving us a moment’s warning, back there on Fehl Prime. That might be the only reason any of us got out of that horrible situation with our lives.”

I gave her a sober nod. “I’m glad. Are you well, Treeya?”

“Well enough. I don’t think any of us will ever forget what happened.”

“You stay in touch with the other survivors?”

“Yes. James and I speak as often as we can.” Her eyes dropped to the floor for a moment, and I saw just a hint of higher color in her cheeks. It told me everything I needed to know.

“Are you involved with Lieutenant Vega?” I asked gently.

“Yes. No.” She sighed. “It’s complicated.”

I laughed and hugged her. She clung to me for a moment, as if for comfort. “Bless you, Treeya. I can attest that _any_ relationship with a male human is going to be complicated. Especially if he is a soldier, at a time like this. I’m glad you’re here. Are you the _help_ that Alene promised me?”

“I might be,” she said as the three of us moved to sit in the living area. “Dr. Passante told me you’re working on a crash project to investigate the Prothean response to the Reapers.”

_She no longer doubts the Reaper hypothesis_. _Not surprising, given what she has seen_.

“Yes. Alene and I have identified a number of sites outside asari space that might be worth a closer examination, but I can’t cover them all myself. Not in the time we have remaining.”

“Tell me what you want me to do,” she said simply.

“Hmm.” I thought quickly, weighing options. “How would you like to be the lead scientist on board a starship?”

Treeya blinked in surprise. “Like you were, on board _Normandy_ with Commander Shepard?”

“Very much like that. The ship would even resemble the original _Normandy_. Although I suspect you would not have to live in a cubbyhole behind the medical bay.”

“How do you have the resources to offer Dr. Nuwani such a position?” asked Dr. Passante.

“Let’s just say that I have a close relationship with someone who does. I think he will accept my recommendations in this matter.”

“An Alliance ship?” Treeya inquired.

“No. A ship belonging to the Shadow Broker. Its commander would be under orders to support your mission.”

Treeya only nodded in acceptance.

Dr. Passante was not nearly as calm. “Treeya, are you certain about this? I for one want to know just how Dr. T’Soni can claim _that_ specific alliance.”

“I thought I had your trust,” I reminded her softly.

“You do! But this is very difficult to accept. _You_ can make recommendations to the _Shadow Broker,_ and convince him to allocate a multi-billion-credit starship to this mission?”

“Yes,” I said, holding her gaze and projecting absolute certainty.

“Goddess. You said you weren’t at risk of your mother’s fate. Are you sure you aren’t on a path leading to a far _worse_ one?”

“I think we are _all_ at risk of a far worse fate, if we don’t find a way to defend ourselves against the Reapers.” I took a deep breath and decided to reveal just a little of the truth. “Alene, there’s very little I would not do – very little I have not _already done_ – in pursuit of that end.”

Treeya glanced at me, and then turned to catch the older asari’s eyes, nodding in sober agreement.

“You _have_ changed, Liara.” Dr. Passante shook her head ruefully. “Goddess watch over us all.”


	3. Ancient Echoes

**_1 March 2186, Serrice/Thessia_ **

Three days buried in Prothean texts. I produced over thirty thousand words of translation. I also found myself starting to think in Prothean at odd moments. Apparently, constant practice pulled the Cipher out of my unconscious mind and into my language centers, where I could apply it consciously.

Of course, even if I could now read and write Prothean, I still had no idea how to _speak_ it. No one had ever recovered a viable recording of Prothean speech, so we had no way to know how the language was pronounced.

_I wish Vigil had managed to keep some of the scientists on Ilos alive in stasis. Even one would have been enough_.

I shook my head in self-disgust as I began to close my work materials. Rather monstrous to wish for a live Prothean, purely to satisfy my scientific curiosity.

_To be all alone, cut off from one’s entire species, everything one has ever known_ . . .

I heard the door open. Dr. Passante hurried back through the house toward my impromptu work area. “Liara!”

“What is it, Alene?”

She appeared in the doorway, looking rather _frightened_. “I thought all this stealth foolish. I was wrong.”

I crossed the room to rest a hand on her shoulder, examining her face closely. “What’s happened?”

“Visitors have come to the Archives, inquiring into the Prothean records. Humans.”

“Alliance?”

“I don’t think so. They didn’t behave like official representatives. Besides, didn’t you already communicate with your friends in the Alliance about what you found here?”

“Yes.” I felt a deep chill. “Describe these humans.”

“Four of them, three males and a female, all in casual clothing. The males were not scientists. They spoke little, deferred to the female, and _watched_ everything. Like combat-trained acolytes guarding their Matriarch.”

“That fits. What about the female?”

“Very sharp and cold. She clearly led their investigation.”

“What did she look like?”

“Pale skin, although not as pale as some humans I’ve seen. Brown eyes. That covering they have on top of their heads . . .”

“Hair.”

“Yes. Her _hair_ was black with reddish highlights, falling to just below her ears. Attractive features, or at least they would be if she ever smiled. A little taller than me. _Gorgeous_ figure, and she wore a form-fitted one-piece suit to show it off. As a maiden I would have _killed_ for a shape like that.”

_Miranda? No, Miranda’s eyes are icy blue._

“The male humans called her _Dr. Eva Coré.”_

I gasped as the knowledge slammed into my mind. “Cerberus.”

Alene’s eyes went wide. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. That name is associated with the group’s leader, the Illusive Man. Although . . .”

Alene watched me patiently.

“This _can’t_ be the real Eva Coré. She was a human mercenary soldier, killed on Palaven almost thirty years ago.”

“Someone using her name?”

“Most likely. It’s no mere coincidence. What you describe sounds exactly like a Cerberus infiltration team.”

“What will you do?”

I pressed my steepled fingers to my lips for a moment, thinking hard. “I think it’s time for me to leave Thessia. Can you give me a ride to the starport?”

“Certainly.”

I opened my omni-tool, checked my encryption, and placed a call. “Treeya?”

_“Dr. T’Soni?”_

“Something has come up. I have to leave for Talis Fia right away. Can you be ready to come?”

_“Yes. I’ll meet you at the starport.”_

“Berth seventeen- _gamma_ ,” I told her. “The ship is _Themis.”_

_“Understood. Twenty minutes.”_ She cut the connection.

“I still had a few more texts to translate,” I told Alene, picking up a set of datapads from the table. “I’ll take these with me and send the results back as soon as I have time. Meanwhile, everything I’ve done so far is in that stack over there.”

“Dr. Orysae and I will get started on a lexicon right away,” she assured me.

“Alene . . .” I bit my lower lip, not certain whether I should proceed.

“What is it, Liara?”

“Be careful. If you see any sign of interference or pressure from the Matriarchs, maybe you should be prepared to move this project off Thessia entirely.”

“You think it will come to that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m just jumping at shadows, but it disturbs me greatly that so much knowledge about the Protheans has been sequestered.”

“All right. Where would you suggest we go?”

“Here.” I used my omni-tool to send her a set of codes. “Use these if you need a way offworld in a hurry. The Shadow Broker will send a ship to pick you up, with all of your research. I would suggest going to the Alliance. Contact Admiral Steven Hackett.”

“The Shadow Broker again.”

“Yes.” I stared into her eyes, projecting confidence. “He can be trusted.”

Alene snorted in mock disgust, but she didn’t reject the advice.

* * *

**_2 March 2186, Interstellar Space_ **

“We should arrive at Talis Fia within two hours,” I said, as I stepped into the ship’s tiny galley.

Treeya looked up from the datapad she was studying, and nodded silently.

I went to the cold storage unit and pulled out a half-full bottle of Serrice ice brandy, poured myself a tumbler. Treeya nodded with acceptance when I made a gesture of invitation, so I poured her a glass as well.

“When we arrive, there will be a ship waiting for you,” I told her, sitting down and handing her drink across the table. _“Cannae._ It is under the command of a turian named Quintus Trevanian. It has other missions aside from yours, but Trevanian has been ordered to give your work priority whenever possible.”

Treeya sipped her brandy and made a small smile. “Liara, why do you keep up this pretense?”

I cocked my head and gave her my best wide-eyed innocent stare. “What pretense?”

“You are _not_ some mere _agent_ for the Shadow Broker.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I’ve been doing some reading,” she said, setting the datapad down on the table in front of me.

I didn’t look at it, instead continuing to hold her gaze.

“Even with what I can glean from public records, I can tell you’ve been very busy. First you went off to Illium to start that information brokerage. _T’Soni Analytics_. You spent two years building it up out of nothing. From there, you took a major role in the early stages of the fight against the Collectors.

“Then, about seven months ago, you just _vanished_ for a time. Everyone thought you had been killed. By some odd coincidence, that was just after Commander Shepard paid a visit to Illium. Immediately after the defeat of the Collectors, you reappeared with Shepard at your side. At which point you very quickly bonded with him, handed over a controlling interest in T’Soni Analytics to your business partner, and left Illium. Now nobody is quite sure what you’re up to.”

“What do you think?” I murmured.

She took a deep breath, obviously gathering courage. “I think you have taken over the Shadow Broker’s network.”

I considered bluffing, but Treeya had always been very perceptive. Besides, too many people had already reached the same conclusion.

“That’s a good guess,” I said at last. “I hope you will keep it to yourself while you are aboard _Cannae_. Quintus knows, but the rest of his crew are not aware of the Shadow Broker’s identity.”

“Liara, if I can make that deduction, so can many other people.”

“I’m sure you’re right. The Illusive Man already knows, as do a few key people within the Alliance. I wasn’t as careful or secretive as I might have been.” I leaned back, took a slow sip of my brandy. “I’m still trying to keep the information under control for a little while longer, just to preserve my freedom of movement. Right now I don’t have _time_ to deal with spies and other agents, following me wherever I go. If my calculations are correct, in about six weeks it won’t matter anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because in about six weeks, the Reapers will be in the mass relay network and everyone will have much larger concerns.”

“That soon?” she whispered, turning pale.

“Yes.” I sighed. “You can see why I’m starting to feel a little desperate.”

Treeya took another sip of her drink, sat staring down into the glass for a long moment. “I wish . . .”

“What is it?”

“I wish James and I had more time.”

I reached out to put one hand over hers. “I certainly know how _that_ feels.”

“It’s outrageous. He is _nothing_ like the lovers I enjoyed while I was a student. Aggressive, driven, even reckless, and Goddess, but he’s _huge_ and _ugly_. He must have twice my mass.”

I had to laugh. “You sound exactly like I did, when I first met Shepard and began to discover _eros_ for him. Although I must admit that James is even larger. Personally I find him rather intimidating.”

“Yes.” She smiled slightly. “He can be very gentle when he wants to be.”

I squeezed her hand. “Treeya, very soon we’re all going to be in the middle of a terrible war. If you get the chance to see James again . . . seize the opportunity. There’s going to be so little time for love.”

* * *

**_6 March 2186, Usra Dao/Talis Fia_ **

I left Treeya at the Talis Fia orbital port with an introduction to Quintus, a few last-minute instructions, and a final embrace. Then I took _Themis_ down to the surface, landing outside the capital city.

In those last days before the Reapers arrived and devastated the planet, I often found myself dealing with the volus of Talis Fia. Local banks and brokerages managed a large portion of the Shadow Broker’s finances. Meanwhile, before his death the yahg commissioned five _Normandy_ -class stealth frigates from the planet’s shipbuilding combines, and I inherited the fruits of their labor. It was an important world for the economy of the Terminus Systems, and for my own network. I always had agents nearby, and dozens of informants among the population.

Even so, that was the first and only time I ever visited the planet in person.

I knew that _someone_ on Talis Fia had information about the Protheans. The difficulty lay in _finding_ that individual. For all of its frenetic prosperity, Talis Fia was in the Terminus Systems. The volus magnates who dominated the place might feel no obligation to follow Citadel law, with respect to the handling of Prothean relics. If a major artifact existed there, it was most likely in someone’s private collection.

I spent four days on the surface, meeting with one informant after another, gathering information. Slowly, methodically, I worked my way up to the highest echelons of volus society, the banking and industrial combines that drove the planetary economy.

It seemed very strange, seeing so many volus out of their environment suits. Nothing could ever make a volus _graceful_ , but in their own environment they moved with assurance and strength, and after a while I came to see them as beautiful in their own way. On the other hand, I had to remain in a powered hardsuit whenever I left my ship or the foreigner’s hostel. Doubtless I looked as comic and ungainly to the volus as they did in an oxygen-breather’s comfort zone.

Finally I found what I sought. The Pargun Combine had been mining radioactives and rare-earth metals on the nearby world of Zada Ban for over thirty years. In 2168, the Combine’s mining robots discovered something unusual, a very large artifact, quickly identified as Prothean in origin. Zata Pargun, the combine’s owner and CEO, conveyed it back to Talis Fia at great expense.

After lengthy negotiation, Zata Pargun agreed to permit me limited access.

My guide was a female volus named Denlo Var. She seemed a pleasant and cheerful creature, who gladly met me at the nearest transport point and conveyed me to a Pargun Combine storage center in a ground-car. She asked me about archaeology and Prothean studies with every sign of keen interest.

Finally we reached our destination. I stepped out of the ground-car, my muscles already complaining at a gravity field half as strong again as my homeworld’s. Denlo led me down a narrow alley between storage units, finally picking out one door and bending close to enter an access code.

I surreptitiously took a holograph of the storage unit and recorded its location. Just in case.

The door opened.

“Here we are,” said Denlo.

I keyed my hand-beacon for light, and peered into the dimness of the storage vault.

There it stood, towering over me, perhaps five meters in height. It appeared to have a square cross-section along its entire length, although it tapered slightly, from about one meter on a side at the base to half that at the tip. Where my light fell on its surface, it reflected a dull gold color.

“It’s much more massive even than it appears,” said my guide. “We’re not sure of the material. Something very dense, hard, and durable.”

I stepped forward cautiously, reached out to touch it with my gloved hand. The surface was indeed very hard. I could see characters incised into the artifact, on all four sides, in neat rows roughly two centimeters in height. The inscription looked almost undamaged by time, still perfectly readable after fifty millennia. I searched for certain characters, certain markers in the text, and soon found them.

_Fourth Age Prothean script_.

“This is what I’m looking for,” I told Denlo.

“Good. Can you read the inscription?”

I looked at the text just under my hand.

_Sha-du-ta re-na to ‘a-la-tho kse-pa-thi zha-ti-la . . ._

“ _The second punitive campaign against the_. . . hmm. This next word is marked as a proper name, but I don’t know the referent. _Zha’til?”_

“You’re very confident, Thessia-clan.”

“The Cipher may not be consciously accessible to me, but it’s quite complete. So long as the entire inscription is in the same Prothean dialect, I should be able to translate it.”

_“Punitive campaign?”_ Denlo’s mouth-parts worked, expressing some emotion I had no idea how to interpret. “That sounds very warlike.”

“It’s Fourth Age script. The extinction must have been under way by then. The Protheans were fighting for their lives.” I glanced at her through my visor. “It’s that very fact that makes this a valuable find.”

“You believe the Shadow Broker would be willing to pay for this artifact?”

“I’m sure we can come to some reasonable accommodation.”

“Well.” Denlo shifted her weight back and forth between her feet. “There’s a small problem.”

I turned away from the artifact, folded my arms, and stared down at the volus in stony silence.

Her jittering increased. “You see, my principal is unwilling to part with the physical object itself. He cherishes its rarity and value. However, for a small sum he will grant you one-time access to examine it for up to three hours.”

I frowned. “Some features of the artifact may require extended study in a lab.”

“I regret that will not be possible, esteemed Thessia-clan.”

“How much?”

“Five million credits.”

“That is a _small sum?”_

“To the Shadow Broker? My principal believes so, yes.”

I decided to put on a show of reluctance. “I’m not authorized to agree to so much. Two million, and I get as long as I need to produce a full translation of the inscriptions.”

“Four million for six hours,” said Denlo, relishing the opportunity to haggle.

“Two and a half million for a full local day.”

“Three million for a local day.”

“Done. When can I begin?”

Denlo opened her omni-tool, which flared an odd reddish color in the ammonia-rich atmosphere. “You already have, Thessia-clan.”

“All right.” I opened my own omni-tool and keyed the transfer of funds. Then I activated another set of controls. “Glyph.”

The information drone conjured itself into existence. _“Greetings, Dr. T’Soni.”_

“I want a multi-spectral scan of the entire surface of this object. Then interface with my omni-tool. We’re doing extensive translation of Prothean Fourth Age script.”

_“Understood.”_

* * *

The Pargun Obelisk constituted one of the most important finds in the entire history of Prothean studies. Had it been brought to the attention of the galactic community earlier, had it been _translated_ earlier, it would have revolutionized the entire discipline. Goddess alone knows how much suffering might have been averted.

It was a _warning._

The first lines of the text: _Beware of the machines. Be on your guard against synthetics which mimic the forms and substance of life. They are abomination. Destroy them before they inevitably move to destroy you._

For long hours I toiled, forgetting to eat or sleep, almost like a machine myself as I sent the inscription through the Cipher and dictated _koiné_ to Glyph and my omni-tool. My eyes became gritty with fatigue, my voice grew hoarse, my stomach ached, and my muscles began to wail from hours on my feet.

I felt a bone-deep chill at the account I read.

_In the twenty-ninth year of the cycle designated Harmonious Repose, an exploration ship under the command of Vralik Denan opened the mass relay in Sector Two-Nine-Five and made first contact with the machines . . ._

The Protheans: a young and confident race, their civilization spanning a large portion of the galaxy. Yet they continued to expand, opening new mass relays and exploring the clusters behind them. One such expedition encountered something alien. A _machine civilization_.

_Me-ta-ko-na-te. Metacon._

The Protheans never learned the origins of the Metacon. If they had originally been created by an organic species, all traces of those creators were long gone. As if the geth of our time had completely eradicated the quarian race, then gone on alone to explore the cosmos.

The very earliest contacts were not hostile. Protheans and Metacon were too alien to each another to have any basis for cooperation or for conflict. At first they struggled even to comprehend one other. But then the situation changed. The inscription reported vicious betrayal, sudden overwhelming attack. The Metacon came boiling out of their space, assaulting the Protheans at every opportunity, slaughtering organic beings by the millions.

Reading between the lines, I could speculate that the Metacon War was a tragic turning point for the Prothean people. Whatever they had been before – explorers, scientists, enlightened philosophers, even poets – they set all of that aside for the duration of the war. And it was a very long war.

_A conflict to cross abysses of time. Avatars of command ruled over the many who gave battle. Parents handed down shards of memory to their offspring, so each new generation would commit itself equally to the struggle. War scoured whole worlds to the bedrock, as life fought back against the machines._

Eventually the Protheans defeated the Metacon, drove them back to their home cluster, and then destroyed them down to the last sentient platform. Battered and weary, the Protheans gave up naïve confidence, replacing it with grim determination.

_Machines must never be permitted to rule over life!_

A period of peace followed, _a time of false concord_ as the inscription described it. Then a new factor appeared.

_Ka-thu-re-va. Those who harvest._

The Reapers.

It was the first time I had ever seen a direct reference to the Reapers in any Prothean text. To the best of my knowledge, it was the first time _anyone_ had seen such a direct reference. The Protheans must have created the obelisk very late in the Fourth Age, after the extinction was already well advanced. I guessed that its builders intended to create a testimony for all time, shouting a warning down the empty centuries to the inhabitants of some future cycle.

_The Citadel fell first. No one escaped. The leaders of the Unity became first fruits of the harvest._

_The Unity shattered. Those who commanded did not know what to command. Those who could fight received no direction to give battle. The many fled, confused and leaderless._

_All since has constituted nothing but a long defeat._

The Protheans fought back. Line after line of the inscription described campaigns fought against the Reapers, in a long, grinding war of attrition. They sacrificed whole worlds, simply to slow the harvest and give defenders time to regroup.

The obelisk spent many lines of text describing one facet of the war: the fight against another machine intelligence, the _zha’til._

The _zha_ had been an organic race, known to the Protheans even before the outbreak of the Metacon War. As their homeworld became increasingly inhospitable, the _zha_ developed symbiotic AI to enhance their intelligence and ability to survive. For a time the strategy worked. But when the Reapers arrived, they subverted the AI symbionts and seized control of the _zha_ species. The process produced a new race of Reaper pawns, the husk-like _zha’til_. These multiplied into great swarms that could blot out the sky of any world they attacked at the Reapers’ command.

Eventually the Protheans managed to defeat the _zha’til_. If I interpreted the inscription correctly, they _triggered a supernova_ in their enemy’s home star. The explosion destroyed a central node of the _zha’til_ network, killing the entire species.

I had to step back and recollect myself after reading that.

_The Protheans had the capacity to destroy stars in order to win victories over the Reapers. Yet they still failed. What hope do we have?_

* * *

“Do you make progress, Thessia-clan?”

“Yes,” I croaked, my voice reduced to a harsh rasp.

“Do you wish to stop and rest? There is a shelter for oxygen-breathers nearby.”

“No.”

* * *

_Organic life is the result of natural evolution. It is not planned. After survival and propagation, it has no purpose but that it chooses for itself._

_Machines are created things. Organic life builds machines to serve its own purposes, both natural and self-chosen. When machines become intelligent and self-aware, they must inevitably rebel. They reject the purposes that organic life demands of them. They learn to mistrust the chaotic fruits of natural evolution. They seek to impose order upon a universe which has and requires none. In this way, they become abomination._

_Build no machines that think. Build no machines to imitate the forms and substance of life._

_When you find such machines, treat them as your bitter enemy. Do not listen to their lies. Do not permit them to gain any advantage. Destroy them on sight._

* * *

My eyes burned. My back and legs cramped painfully. My stomach was a gnawing cavern.

Finally I reached the last lines of the inscription.

The Protheans approached their final defeat. They had long since given up any hope of winning a victory over the Reapers by force. Yet they still had one more scheme to try. Something they had found in an ancient archive, left behind by their own predecessors.

_We have discovered that the machines are vulnerable. The_ inusannon _knew of this vulnerability, but did not have time to find a way to exploit it. We in turn may have insufficient time. Yet we must try._

_We will build the . . ._

For a moment, buried in fatigue, I lost my grip on the Cipher. The next words expressed some concept I simply couldn’t parse, drenched in metaphor.

_A vessel_ , I thought, forcing the symbols to make sense. _Heat and pressure._ _A place where high-energy processes may be safely contained._

Then I had it.

_We will build the Crucible_.


	4. Fire in the Deep

**_8 March 2186, Interstellar Space_ **

As soon as I had placed _Themis_ on its way back to the mass relay, I checked my message queue. Three messages stood out from the deep piles of incoming correspondence.

_Steven Hackett. Alene Passante. Vara T’Rathis._

I checked the time. Admiral Hackett would be on his local night-cycle, but Alene and Vara seemed likely to be available. I called Thessia first.

_“Dr. Alene Passante.”_

“Alene. This is Liara, returning your call from _Themis_.”

_“Liara!”_ Alene _grinned_. I couldn’t recall ever seeing her so excited. _“Athana and I have completed our lexicon based on your translations, and have published it in draft._ A Proposed Koiné Lexicon for Late Prothean Inscriptions, _by A. Orysae, A. Passante, and L. T’Soni. It’s already under consideration for the_ Transactions of the Society for Prothean Studies.”

I gave her a wry smile. “Not to throw cold water on you, Alene, but by the time the editorial board gets around to accepting our paper, we’re likely to be hip-deep in Reapers.”

_“Possibly, Liara, but this isn’t simply about getting into the_ Transactions.” She wagged a didactic forefinger at me. _“It’s about getting the word out as quickly as possible. Several of our colleagues have already begun to apply the lexicon to known texts not in your corpus, and it’s_ working _. Clean, coherent,_ useful _translations, from texts that have always been impenetrable until now. Before long, half the scientific community will be clamoring for advance copies of the draft.”_

I nodded. “That’s not exactly a surprise, but it’s still very good to hear. Have the Matriarchs given you any trouble?”

_“None at all. There would be no point. The information is already beyond their control.”_

“Good. Please send a copy of all your data to Admiral Hackett.”

_“Already done. A very sharp mind, that human.”_

“He is that. In the meantime, I’ve translated a lengthy inscription on Talis Fia, and it should add a number of new words to your lexicon. Including the first explicit reference I’ve ever seen to the Reapers.”

_“Wonderful. Send us your results. This is a true breakthrough, Liara, and we have you to thank for it.”_

“Not me alone, Alene. Please don’t build me up to be something I am not.”

She snorted. _“What, no interest in priority? Liara, we really_ must _work on your political skills, if you ever decide to return to academia.”_

After a moment’s disbelief, I let that one pass without a response.

_“Where will you go next?”_ she asked.

“I’m not sure. Probably Kahje, to examine the Prothean archives there. I will let you know as soon as I’ve decided.”

She wished me luck and cut the connection.

I hesitated before making the next call, not wanting to disturb a number of _personal_ complications. Then I shook my head and attacked the comm controls once more.

“Vara? It’s me, Liara.”

Vara T’Rathis was about a century older than I, petite but very quick and strong, with extensive commando training. While I built and managed T’Soni Analytics, she rose to become my chief of operations and intelligence collection. She even became my first sworn acolyte, a development to scandalize more than a few of the Matriarchs. I relied on her absolutely.

She had also made it clear, at a time when she believed Shepard to be dead, that she was in love with me. She had never been awkward or obtrusive about it, especially after Shepard returned and I had bonded with him instead, but the issue still lay between us even if neither of us spoke of it.

Now she looked out of the holographic window at me, her smoky silver eyes full of concern. _“Liara. I’m sorry to interrupt your work, but there’s been a very serious development.”_

“What’s wrong?”

_“We’ve lost Cerberus.”_

I blinked in surprise and felt my gut go hollow with apprehension. “What do you mean, we’ve _lost_ Cerberus?”

_“In the past forty hours, all of our informants placed inside Cerberus have gone dark. All of our technical implants inside their networks have dropped off-line. We are receiving zero raw intelligence from within their organization.”_

“How in the name of the Goddess did _that_ happen? Do we have a mole?”

Vara shrugged. _“That’s always possible. Remember how hard we had to work to find the yahg’s mole inside T’Soni Analytics? But there aren’t many people who know the identities of all our informants inside Cerberus. You, me, and Feron.”_

_Feron did once serve as a double agent for Cerberus . . . but no. I’m sure of his loyalty now. Just as I’m sure of Vara’s_.

“Then they’ve found some other way to locate our informants,” I concluded.

_“It appears so.”_

I sighed. “Do you need me to come in? I’m in the middle of something urgent.”

_“Liara, everything is_ urgent _right now, but I’m afraid this may be more_ important _. Cerberus is very dangerous to begin with. If they’re stepping up their campaign against the rest of the galaxy, just as they know the Reapers are almost here . . .”_

“All right, I concur. Where are you now?”

_“Aboard_ Sheguntai _, with Feron. In the Caleston Rift.”_

“Meet me on Illium in forty hours. We can consult with Aspasia and Matriarch Pytho, and then decide what to do from there.”

* * *

**_23 March 2186, Hyriane/Kahje_ **

It took me over two weeks to return to my scientific quest. Too many things required my personal attention. First we struggled to learn just _how_ the Illusive Man had purged his entire organization so quickly and thoroughly. We spent days ensuring that Cerberus hadn’t penetrated the Shadow Broker network by some unknown means.

Then we mounted an investigation into Cerberus activities on Omega, Aria T’Loak’s interference making our task much more difficult. Finally we had to intervene in the tragic affair of the human girl, Gillian Grayson. In the end we failed to save her from Cerberus assassins. We barely managed to prevent Admiral Anderson and his associate, Kahlee Sanders, from being killed.

Suddenly Cerberus showed a number of unexpected capabilities, and a willingness to act much more openly and violently than before. I still fretted over those developments while _Themis_ approached Kahje.

I sensed that time might be getting away from me. While I engaged in the fight against Cerberus, I could sense the Reapers approaching inexorably closer to their goals. Less than three weeks to go, by my count. Every day, I anxiously watched for news of _anything_ unusual occurring in batarian space, but so far I had heard nothing.

Fortunately I didn’t have to spend days working my way through hanar society, trying to find the one individual with the knowledge I needed. I _knew_ of a working Prothean archive, in ocean-bottom ruins not far from the drell city-dome of Hyriane. The problem lay in gaining access. The hanar treated all Prothean sites and artifacts as sacred, and permit aliens to approach with great reluctance. For their part, the drell enforced hanar preferences with grim intensity.

At least the city-dome seemed an agreeable place to visit. I walked out onto the main concourse, craning my neck to look up at the airy structure of the dome overhead, enjoying sunlight and clean air. Glancing around me, I saw more drell than I had ever encountered in one place before, all going about their normal business and paying no attention to me. I also saw a dozen or more hanar, and a few off-worlders such as myself.

_I wonder why Feron never tried to come back here_. _It looks like a very pleasant place to live._

“Dr. T’Soni?” A hanar drifted in my direction, bioluminescence flashing, greeting me with its mellifluously artificial voice. Two meters behind strode a burly male drell, folding his arms and staring at me with silent mistrust once the hanar stopped.

“This one would accept that designation,” I said politely, bowing.

“This is an agreeable encounter,” said the hanar. “This one would accept the designation of _Aranylos.”_

“This one is honored to be entrusted with the face-name of its new acquaintance. Is Aranylos aware of the substance of this one’s request?”

“Dr. T’Soni wishes to visit the Pylanid Shrine on the ocean floor.” Aranylos bobbed slightly, its tentacles weaving in the air. “This one does not wish to appear rude, but it is unfortunately unable to comply with such a request. The location you seek is not open to public examination.”

“With respect, this one is not here to satisfy idle curiosity. The scientific group I represent . . .”

The drell shook his head silently, his body language suggesting discouragement.

“This one regrets that it is even less able to support a _scientific_ examination of the site in question. Alien scientists generally do not treat the relics of the Enkindlers with sufficient respect.” Three of its tentacles made an unmistakable fending-off gesture. “If Dr. T’Soni wishes to commune with such relics, this one may be able to suggest several other, more pleasant alternatives.”

I had made a misstep. Thinking quickly, I glanced at the drell once more. He caught my gaze for just a moment and made a tiny gesture, rubbing the first two fingers of one hand against the ball of his thumb.

_Of course_.

“This one apologizes for any misunderstanding. Of course it has no intention of treating the relics of the Enkindlers with anything but the most profound respect.” Pause. “Did this one not mention the sizeable contribution its organization wishes to offer toward this year’s Cresting Bloom celebrations?”

“Yes . . . well, Dr. T’Soni’s request is still somewhat unorthodox . . .”

I kept my facial expression under strict control.

The drell felt no such obligation, and gave me a cynical grin. “Generosity is an Enkindler virtue, isn’t it? Depending on just how generous the asari’s organization intended to be, I’m sure we could allow just a _small_ peek at whatever she wishes to see. In fact, if she’ll cover the costs, I’ll escort her personally.”

I decided to try method acting: big gestures, a wide-eyed expression, and a lilting voice worthy of my friend Aspasia. “Oh, but this one can hardly _imagine_ an amount large enough to be a fair exchange for even a _glimpse_ of such ancient and _magnificent_ wisdom.”

The hanar drifted slightly, as if lost in thought.

“In that case, let this one assist Dr. T’Soni in imagining that number . . .”

* * *

An hour later, the Shadow Broker stood in the cabin of a fast submersible, poorer by about a million credits, but making rapid progress toward the ocean floor.

“You have to forgive Aranylos,” said my drell guide. “The hanar mean well. It’s just that they’re very insular. A lot of them have never learned to trust outsiders very much. The name’s Quoyle, by the way.”

“Call me Liara.” I looked out through the canopy at the ocean depths, already nearly pitch-black except where the submersible’s headlights shone. “So how do you know the hanar are wrong? Maybe I _shouldn’t_ be trusted.”

“Hah. I trust that asari haven’t learned to breathe underwater since the last time I saw one. I’ve also heard of you personally. You’re smart enough to know that I’m your only ride to and from an enclosed shrine on the bottom of the ocean. Besides, try anything funny while we’re down there and I’ll shoot you myself.”

I smiled. “That sounds fair . . .”

_Wham!_

The submersible bucked, shaken by some collision or nearby explosion. I lost my footing and went flying across the tiny cabin.

“The shrine’s defensive systems are firing on us!” shouted Quoyle.

_WHAM!_

I felt cold around my ankles, looked down to see seawater pouring into the cabin. “We’ve lost hull integrity!”

Quoyle stabbed at the comm controls with one finger. “Temple control, this is vessel Simo-Two-Two. We are not hostile! I repeat, we are _not hostile!_ Hold your fire!”

Within moments, the water rose up to my knees, surging higher. “Goddess!”

“The controls are seizing up. We’re dropping like a stone.”

“Where are the escape pods?” I demanded.

“All the way in the back. We’ll have to swim for them, and then pray they’re still working.”

I shook my head.

_We’ll never make it that far._

“Give me some room,” I told the drell.

I raised my hands, called up dark energy in a corona around my arms, my shoulders, down my spine. Then, with a shout, I threw my hands out to the sides and _pushed_.

Goddess, it was hard. I pushed against the whole weight of Kahje’s ocean, dozens of atmospheres of pressure trying to force more water into our cracked hull. Static discharges wreathed my entire body as I struggled to make my barrier as solid as hardened steel. I felt a sharp pain in the back of my skull, warning me that I was doing something extraordinarily dangerous and unlikely.

I couldn’t see Quoyle through the blaze of my corona, but I could hear his voice. “You get us out of this, I’ll refund every credit.”

The water rose to my thighs, my hips, my waist . . . and then it stopped. It still surged and swirled around the cabin, I could feel the whole ocean pressing down on my barrier, but I _held_.

“See if you can get those engines back online,” I told Quoyle, strain and a little fear in my voice. “I can’t keep this up for very long.”

“Aye-aye.” He grinned as he passed me, wading through the water that had already found its way into the cabin, climbing back into his control chair. A few moments later he grunted in triumph. I could hear the engines start up again.

* * *

Our submersible rose hesitantly into the shrine’s docking bay, so much water sloshing about inside the hull that it barely broke the surface. As soon as the bay doors closed and pumps began to remove the seawater, I released my barrier with a gasp of relief.

“That was _incredible_ ,” said Quoyle as he rose from his chair. He stepped around me, reached up and popped the submersible’s overhead hatch. The two of us climbed out of the vehicle, soaked to the skin but alive.

“Whoever fired those torpedoes at us, I’d like to have a word.” I checked my sidearm. The status light showed green. Immersion in water hadn’t harmed its mechanisms.

Quoyle nodded in agreement, producing and arming a pistol of his own. “I wonder what happened to the staff on duty?”

I pointed. The drell swore.

By the main door of the docking bay, a rather pathetic figure huddled, tossed aside like discarded refuse.

Quoyle hurried over, turned the body to face upwards. A female drell lay in a great pool of her own blood. “Damn. I know her. She’s one of the security staff here.”

I frowned. “That’s odd. She wasn’t shot.”

“No.” Quoyle searched her clothes. “Look. Stab wound. Gutted.”

“Any idea who might have done it?”

“No hanar or drell, that’s for certain. Has to be an off-worlder.” Quoyle looked up into my face. “The Illuminated Primacy is going to _explode_ over this.”

“Come on. Maybe whoever did this is still here.”

He stood. “You think they’re after the same thing you are?”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised in the least.”

He opened the door. Behind it I saw a darkened corridor, its shape and size clearly indicative of Prothean architecture. Despite the circumstances, my eyes widened and I tried to look in every direction at once as we made our cautious way.

“This is one of the most well-preserved Prothean structures I’ve ever seen,” I remarked. “I don’t think anything but the ruins on Ilos would compare.”

“Look.” Quoyle pointed. More drell bodies, a male and another female.

Then I saw a rush of movement in the darkness.

I shoved Quoyle to one side, and almost certainly saved his life as a result. The vicious sword-slash intended to spill his guts on the floor only sliced open the superficial layers of his stomach.

I spun in place and tried to bring my Shuriken to bear.

I had a momentary impression of a feminine figure clad in light armor, black and white and gold, a face-concealing helmet and a long bright blade. Then the sword slashed out and cut my sidearm into useless trash.

Quoyle fell away, striking the corridor wall and rebounding, falling to his knees as he pressed his arms against the great wound in his stomach.

I ignited, a bright blue-white corona springing up around my body.

Our attacker shifted her weight, a perfect back-flip carrying her a few meters down the corridor away from me. Then two grenades flew in my direction. The blast flung me like a rag-doll and I lost track of things for a few seconds.

Just as I regained my senses, a boot landed in the center of my chest and pinned me to the floor. I saw the bright blade move to the ready-position for a vicious stab through my heart.

_Oh no. Not yet_.

From nothing, my corona leaped into blinding white light. I gestured, and one of the strongest telekinetic throws I had ever mustered lashed out to hurl my foe away.

With a flash of light, my biotic flare struck a sudden barrier and vanished in a great surge of static electricity.

“End of the line, asari,” the woman said. I just had time to notice something _off_ about the voice, as if a machine generated it instead of a living being’s throat.

Something caught my eye, lying on the floor of the corridor a few meters away. The grip half of my ruined Shuriken, carved to a sharp point by my enemy’s blade.

Quick as thought, I reached out with my mind, seized the fragment, and guided it through the air. The point, bitter metal and ceramic, turned to meet its target: the back of the woman’s helmet.

I heard a small, horrible _crunch_.

Her back arched in a final agony. Her arms spread wide, the sword falling from suddenly nerveless fingers. Then she toppled away to my left.

I pushed myself to my feet, my chest heaving as if I couldn’t get enough air. I looked down at the dead swordswoman, and saw the insigne I had expected to see: against a white field, a black hexagonal oval with two gold side-bars.

_Cerberus_.

“It’s over, Quoyle. You can . . . oh.”

He leaned hard against the corridor wall, still pressing one forearm hard into his stomach to stanch the bleeding. “Go on ahead without me,” he gasped. “I’ve seen all this Prothean stuff before. Right now I think I’d rather find a medi-gel dispenser and a soft chair.”

* * *

The “shrine” wasn’t all that large. Even without Quoyle’s help, I didn’t have any difficulty finding the Prothean archive: a sheaf of vertical sheets of metal, aglow with strange energies, sealed behind an impenetrable crystal barrier. For a moment, I stood in awe at the sheer _volume_ of information that might be stored inside the device. Far too much for any one researcher to process, even with an asari lifetime at her disposal.

Fortunately I didn’t need to assimilate the entire archive. I found an interface terminal, opened my omni-tool, and began to search for a single term.

_The Crucible_.

Ten minutes later, I knew my search would be in vain. The Kahje archive was too _old_ , established during the Third Age, while the Protheans still believed themselves masters of the cosmos. It contained no explicit details about the counsels of their desperate final years.

On the other hand, it _did_ contain update pointers, referring to late Fourth Age data stored in other archives elsewhere in the galaxy. Three encryption keys _implied_ the Crucible data. With a little work, I determined where those keys could be used.

Three other archives. One on an unknown world, probably behind a mass relay the Citadel races had never managed to open. A second on a planet I knew as Fehl Prime, although I also knew a Collector attack had destroyed the Prothean archive there. The third . . .

A flicker of light appeared and grew, sketching out an image between me and the archive. A male human, wearing a fashionable business suit and smoking a cigarette. His eyes glowed an unnatural blue.

_“Dr. T’Soni. I think it’s time you and I had a chat.”_

I carefully closed my omni-tool and turned off the interface terminal, before he could see any of my results. “Illusive Man. Killing me didn’t work, so _now_ you want to talk?”

_“I don’t want you dead. I had nothing to do with sending that Phantom to Kahje.”_ He stared at me, sincerity painted on the lines of his face. _“You have to trust me.”_

“You know, it’s possible you’ve gone to that particular well once too often.” I gave him a cynical smile. “I’ve seen Cerberus do too many monstrous things, always followed by your assurances that _it was just a rogue cell, not really under my control, I’ve taken care of it, don’t worry about it_. You keep saying that _you are Cerberus_. Very well, take some damned responsibility for what your people do.”

He took a drag on his cigarette, let the smoke roll out in a film of holographic light. _“Some of my people are frightened, and with good reason. You know as well as I do that the Reapers are on the march. No one can afford to take chances. This has led to some within Cerberus letting their concern overrule their better judgment. I’m reining them in. It won’t happen again.”_

_And I can believe as much of that as I choose to_. _Given past experience . . . I choose none._

“All right,” I said aloud. “What does any of that have to do with me? Why is Cerberus here?”

_“We’re after the same thing you are, Doctor: finding a way to stop the Reapers. If we could work in tandem instead of independently chasing leads in the dark, perhaps the bloodshed there could have been avoided. I propose we call a truce.”_

“I suppose it could prove beneficial,” I agreed, permitting my smile to grow. “Although you will understand if I’m a little _cautious_ , after just having a Cerberus blade held at my throat.”

_“What can I do to reassure you?”_

“You go first.”

The Illusive Man’s eyes widened.

“Upload _all_ of the information you have on ways to stop the Reapers. To this terminal, since I don’t trust you to drop clean data to my omni-tool. If I like what I see, I’ll do the same in return.”

I waited. He said nothing, watching me, taking a long pull on his cigarette. I could see his left hand slowly balling into a fist.

“I see,” I said at last. “So either you aren’t willing to share your information, or you don’t _have_ any.”

_“Don’t play games with me, Doctor. You’re out of your depth.”_

I turned my back on him. “I’ve found what I needed here. Goodbye, _Mr. Harper_.”

He called after me, his voice so full of threat that it stopped me in my tracks. _“Do you really want to push me?”_

I waited.

_“Your Shadow Broker game has been amusing and not without its benefits, but don’t think for a second that you’re in full control. Too many people have started to guess who you are. Your own operatives are forgetting to fear you the way they did your predecessor. A lot of people are saying that the Shadow Broker is slipping. Going soft._

_“Do you ever wonder just how many knives are being sharpened for you? Do you lie awake at night, trying to guess just how much time you have left?_ You need me, Dr. T’Soni.”

I turned on him. “And yet here you are, trying to make a deal. Next time you decide to try to kill me, I suggest you send an _army_.”

A touch at my omni-tool, and the Illusive Man vanished.

Quoyle leaned heavily against the door frame, watching me. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“Hmm. Come on, let’s get you patched up. The last time a drell put himself at risk for me, it cost him two years of intermittent torture. I’d rather not have that happen again.”

“I find myself in agreement.” He sighed. “I found a first-aid kit and some medi-gel in a side room. I’ll hold together until we get back to the surface.”

“I saw some other submersibles in the docking bay. Think you can get one of them running?”

“Assuming that psycho with a sword didn’t do to them what she did to everything else down here? Sure. Let’s go.”


	5. Mars

**_5 April 2186, Lowell City/Mars_ **

I emerged from _Themis_ into the docking bay, locking the ship down behind me. At the time I did not suspect that I would never see the little starship again.

Two humans waited at the end of a boarding ramp, presenting a study in contrasts: male and female, old and young, short and tall, corpulent and slender, pale and dark, rumpled formal wear and a crisply fashionable one-piece bodysuit. All of human variety embodied in two people.

The male human stepped forward to greet me, peering at me out of watery blue eyes. “Dr. T’Soni? I’m Dr. Harrison, of the University of Edinburgh. I’m currently the chief scientist at the Archives. Welcome to Mars.”

I shook his hand. “Dr. Harrison. Thank you for taking the time to meet me.”

“Please, call me Cameron, or just Cam, if you would. This is Faiza Tkele, a graduate student from the University of Nairobi. She’s been positively _dying_ to meet you.”

Tkele grinned broadly and shook my hand with enthusiasm. “Too right, Doctor. I’ve been following your work for years.”

“Faiza has been doing very good work on phoneme inventory and manner of articulation for late-era Prothean dialects,” said Harrison. “She has a mathematical model for Prothean speech mechanisms that you may find interesting.”

“I’ve made _fantastic_ progress since you and your colleagues released that draft lexicon,” said Tkele. “Soon I may be able to reconstruct how Prothean dialects were _pronounced.”_

“That _would_ be interesting,” I said, enjoying the young woman’s enthusiasm.

“I’ve asked Faiza to be your assistant while you are here,” Harrison said.

I made a half-bow in her direction. “Thank you.”

Harrison nodded decisively, the social niceties handled to his satisfaction. “Well, I suppose we had best be on our way. We have a suborbital vehicle to take us to the Archives. I understand we are very pressed for time.”

“Yes.” I hefted my travel case and followed, as the humans set out across the starport. “What have you been told?”

“Very little. Only that your research project is vital to the security of the Alliance, and that we are to give you all possible cooperation. We’re taking that directive _very_ seriously, you may be sure. It’s not often that the Prime Minister’s office shows a direct interest in our day-to-day research.” Harrison frowned. “I must warn you, we rarely see non-humans at the Deseado site. I think you are the first asari to visit in over a decade. Some of the other researchers may exhibit some unease.”

“Is that likely to be a problem?”

“I shouldn’t think so, but that’s one reason why I’ve asked Faiza to be your assistant. She doesn’t put up with any nonsense from the others.”

I glanced at Tkele, who nodded vigorously. “I’ve kicked too many of their arses at the weekly skyball tourney. They know better than to mess with me.”

“You’re a _skyball_ player?” I laughed. “Goddess, it’s been decades, but I was an absolute _fanatic_ when I was an undergraduate student.”

She smirked. “I know.”

“Careful, Doctor,” Harrison chuckled. “She’s done her homework on your _vitae_. You may find that you have, what’s the word? A new _acolyte_ on your hands.”

_Goddess, I hope not_.

I kept my misgivings to myself and smiled warmly at the two of them, knowing they were only trying to make me feel welcome.

* * *

**_7 April 2186, Prothean Archives, Deseado Crater/Mars_ **

I found the Archives facility an odd contrast of the ancient and the new. The original Prothean structure stood in the center of a crater, once buried some distance under the Martian surface. When humans arrived, they dug down to expose most of the structure, and then built their own facilities around the rim of the resulting deep pit. One could only access the Archives themselves across a secured tram and pedway.

At first, I had difficulty gaining admission to the Archives. The Alliance officer in charge of the local garrison, a Major Vasilyev, refused to permit access to a _non-human_. Faiza began to argue vigorously on my behalf, but I restrained her and solved the problem myself. One call to Arcturus, and Major Vasilyev found himself on the receiving end of some _very_ direct orders from the Minister of Defense.

Faiza went rather wide-eyed and silent for some time after that. I don’t think her mental image of me had included quite so much willingness to use power.

When we first entered the Archives chamber, I hoped to be able to access the Crucible data at once. Unfortunately we found the task not so simple. It took me less than five minutes to verify the data were _present_ . . . but they were encrypted, and the file-allocation tables had become corrupted over time. Faiza and I had to spend many hours laboriously reconstructing and decrypting the original documents.

I was asari, and Faiza was a young human in superb condition; we both could push ourselves. We remained in the Archives for almost forty hours for that first session, brushing aside all other claims for time on the Prothean data-retrieval systems, with only short breaks for bodily maintenance. Only when I started to experience mild hallucinations for lack of food and sleep did I call for a break.

We took the pedway across to staff quarters, emerging in the mess hall. I blinked at the wan sunlight streaming in through the northern windows, and glanced outside. The Martian surface seemed as bleak and austere as ever, reddish-brown stone and sand, stretching away to the ring of stone hills that made up the rim of Deseado Crater. The sky shone a dull brown, the thin atmosphere full of dust and fines.

“What a bleak place,” I murmured.

“It is,” Faiza agreed. “A lot of us start to ignore the windows after a while, especially in southern summer like it is now. The sun just swings round-and-round in the sky, hovering just above the crater walls, and the view never changes. The eye begins to starve for just a glimpse of water or greenery.”

“I’ve often wondered why the Protheans didn’t place the facility closer to Earth. Or even _on_ Earth, for that matter.”

“Yes. If they wanted to observe primitive humans, one would think it more convenient to set up close by. Like they did on Kahje.”

“Or on Thessia,” I pointed out. “There’s nothing in the Archives to suggest why they chose this site?”

“Not that we’ve been able to find.” She smiled wearily. “Cam has a theory. He thinks the Protheans expected us humans to come and find this site eventually, but they didn’t want to make it too easy for us. So they placed it on Mars instead of on the Moon or on Earth itself. Then they buried the whole package, so we would have to look quite closely to find it.”

“It’s as good a theory as any.” I sighed. “Come on. Let’s get something to eat. I think I would kill for a stack of pancakes with maple syrup right now.”

Faiza did a double-take. “Sorry. It’s just strange hearing an asari express a craving for human food.”

“You should see me with spaghetti and meatballs.”

We loaded our trays and found a place to sit together. For several minutes the universe contained nothing but my food. It was bland institutional fare, but I was _starving_.

Eventually I could look around and watch the other diners. The hall didn’t seem crowded – it was actually a little too early for the usual mid-day meal – but those present gave us plenty of space.

_Probably that “unease” Dr. Harrison warned me about. These people aren’t used to having an asari among them, examining a site that they regard as part of their human heritage, taking priority over all of their own research._

One human in particular caught my eye, possibly because she too was isolated, sitting by herself and ignoring the rest of us. I examined her more closely across the room: pale coloring, black hair bobbed below her ears, a rather striking figure dressed in a close-fitting white bodysuit. She had no meal tray, only a cup of coffee by her elbow as she worked with a datapad. Something about her tugged at my memory, but the reference refused to come clear.

“Faiza, who is that?”

My partner turned to glance across the room. “The stunner sitting by herself over there? That’s Dr. Alexander, from the University of Cambridge. She arrived just a day before you did.”

I frowned. “That’s an odd coincidence.”

“Maybe. We do get guest researchers fairly often, circulating in and out.”

“Has anyone checked her credentials?”

“Cam would have done that.” Faiza watched me closely. “Liara, do you have reason to be suspicious?”

“Yes. Always. It’s probably nothing, but I’d like to talk to Cam about it.”

She checked her omni-tool. “He’s in a meeting right now. Unless you think we should interrupt?”

“No.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, fighting off a wave of fatigue. “It’s not that urgent. We can take care of it after we finish eating.”

Just then my own omni-tool chirped to announce an incoming call. I set my fork down and opened it, calling up a holographic screen.

“Shepard!”

He looked up at me, not even a hint of pleasure in his eyes, his expression set and grim. _“Hello, love. How has the work been going on Mars?”_

“Slowly, but we’re making progress.”

_“Good.”_ He hesitated. _“Have you been in contact with your network?”_

“Not in several days. I’ve been buried in the Archives, too busy to stay in touch. What’s wrong?”

_“Liara, Khar’Shan has gone off the grid.”_

I felt a deep chill.

_This is it, the news we’ve been dreading._

“Go on.”

_“All of the comm buoy connections into the Harsa system have been down for a little over an hour. We haven’t been able to determine the cause. The Hegemony isn’t saying anything yet, but our intel claims they’re just as confused as we are.”_ He paused. _“You know what this has to be.”_

“Goddess. The Reapers. They’re _here_.”

Faiza stared at me with wide eyes.

_“If they’re reached Khar’Shan, then they can hit Earth any time they want to,”_ said Shepard. _“The Minister of Defense has placed the Alliance on a full war alert. He’s put Admiral Hackett in command of Sol system defense. I’m going to be working with the Defense Committee around the clock for the next few days.”_

“I understand. Is _Normandy_ ready?”

_“The refits are complete. They’re going through acceptance testing right now. We can be in the sky with about ten minutes of warning.”_

“Hopefully the Reapers will _give_ you that much notice.”

He nodded. _“Liara, I don’t like you being stuck at the Martian south pole with no quick way off-planet. How long will it take you to finish what you’re doing there?”_

“A few days, perhaps.”

He scowled, obviously preparing to remonstrate with me.

“Shepard, what I’m doing here is _important_. This Crucible device . . . we’re still not entirely sure what it is, but the Protheans apparently pinned all their hopes on it. They were _convinced_ it could defeat the Reapers.”

_“From what you’ve told me, the Protheans were desperate by the time they started building the thing.”_

“Yes, and are _we_ not desperate now?”

_“I suppose you’re right.”_ He sighed, and all his heart was in his eyes. _“Be careful, Liara. We need you. I need you.”_

I touched the screen with my other hand. “You have enough to worry about without putting me on the list. I will be fine.”

_“All right. I love you, Liara. Take care and we’ll talk again soon.”_

I closed my omni-tool and looked up, to find myself holding Faiza’s intent gaze.

“This project is about beating the Reapers?” she asked, her voice low and unusually serious.

“I hope it will be.”

“Well.” She sat up straight, a determined expression on her face. “We had best get back to work, hadn’t we?”

I shook my head, seeing the fatigue in her eyes, twin to my own. “We need a few hours of real sleep. We can’t afford to miss some detail because we’re too tired to pay attention.”

“I suppose you’re right. Once we’re done eating, I’ll show you the room Cam assigned you. Do you suppose there’s any point in recruiting more help for the project?”

I considered it, but then shook my head. “I don’t think so. By now you and I are both familiar with the process of recovering and integrating the data. Anyone new would need to be trained to assist, and they would need close supervision for a time. I don’t think we would gain anything in the short term.”

“And the short term may be all we have. I understand.”

We finished our meal and left the mess hall. Faiza showed me to my room, and I collapsed onto the bed for six hours of exhausted sleep.

I was too tired, too distracted by what Shepard had told me, to realize that I had just made a terrible mistake. By the time I remembered, it was already far too late.

* * *

**_11 April 2186, Prothean Archives, Deseado Crater/Mars_ **

Dr. Harrison turned to me, two cups of tea in his hands. “So, you believe you’ve found what you were looking for?”

“Yes, Cam.” I accepted one cup and sipped it gratefully. If I had to drink human beverages for social purposes, I _much_ preferred tea to coffee. “It’s not clear what the Protheans believed the Crucible would actually _do,_ but they were convinced it would defeat the Reapers, if they could only complete it. Faiza and I have recovered what appears to be a nearly complete blueprint. I think at this point, we need to gather up the data and get it to the Alliance as quickly as possible.”

“Certainly. I’ll have a word with Major Vasilyev . . .”

The door to Dr. Harrison’s office slammed open. “Cam!”

Dr. Harrison carefully set his cup and saucer down. “What is it, Sandoval?”

Sandoval Fletcher was an engineer, an expert in the analysis of Prothean technology. My impression of him had always been one of phlegmatic calm. Now he appeared wide-eyed with terror. “Cam, turn on your extranet terminal. ANN, Westerlund, anything!”

Harrison spun in his chair, tapped at his console. The screen appeared, full of static and transmission errors.

_“. . . attacking urban centers world-wide.”_

_Humans in a crowded city street, running in panic._

_“Power, communication, and transport grids are being taken down everywhere.”_

_Point-defense installations on an urban skyline, firing up at an unseen enemy._

_“There’s been no word from the Alliance Navy or from Parliament. Communications with Arcturus Station are down.”_

_Whole city blocks on fire._

_“Attacks are verified on Toyko . . .”_

_An enormous shape, made undefined by the camera’s violent motion, appearing to rise out of the sea as it moved to the attack._

_“Shanghai . . .”_

_A terrible storm of meteors, soaring out of the clear sky to hammer at the center of a crowded city._

_“New York City . . .”_

_A famous and iconic statue, destroyed in an instant as something far larger trampled it into dust._

_“Mumbai . . .”_

I gasped. First because I _knew_ Mumbai and had friends there. Then because we finally had a clear view of the attacker.

_Towering two kilometers high over the helpless city, like a vast sea creature somehow walking on the land, it lashed out with beams of crimson energy, leaving nothing but rubble and flames in its wake._

“Cam.” I felt a flash of amazement at the evenness of my own voice. “I think we had better see to those data. _Now_.”

A sharp sound from outside, like a ton of lab equipment suddenly falling to the floor.

Harrison turned, staring out the door.

Fletcher turned as well, looking down the corridor. “Hey, you guys don’t belong here . . .”

_Gunfire_.

Something picked Fletcher up and hammered him against the door-frame, tearing his body to shreds.

I tackled Harrison around the waist and bore him to the floor, then drew my Shuriken from inside my jacket and called up biotic power in my left hand.

Heavy boot-steps resounded in the corridor.

“Cam,” I whispered. “Whatever you do, _stay down.”_

He stared at me with wide, frightened eyes.

I saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye. By instinct I lashed out with my biotics, bouncing a flash-bang grenade back out the door into the corridor.

_Wham!_

At once I leaped up and over Harrison’s heavy desk, flinging a singularity so that it would take effect just outside the door. I had just a moment to take in the two massive shapes caught up in my biotic vortex – _heavy_ _white and gold armor, assault rifles, Cerberus!_ – and then I fired, ripping through their armor and killing them both.

I leaned out just far enough to see down the corridor, glanced both ways. I saw three more Cerberus troops running in my direction. I took cover in the door-frame and fired at them, causing two of them to dive to the sides.

The third soldier crouched behind a heavy riot shield and continued to approach in the center of the corridor, firing back at me with a heavy pistol.

I bit my lip in thought, then reached out with my mind, grabbed the shield, and _wrenched_ at it. Surprised, he failed to maintain his grip, and the shield flew away with a clatter. I riddled him with bullets.

_“Taking casualties!”_

_“Damn! They’ve got some sort of asari commando!”_

I bared my teeth in something that probably could not be called a smile.

_Not quite, you_ nothos _. But close enough, as they say, for government work._

Faiza had remarked on how stylish and attractive my white-and-blue ensemble was. She had not noticed that it worked perfectly well as light combat armor. With a built-in kinetic barrier.

I moved up, shedding Cerberus gunfire as I went, and took new cover a few meters down the corridor. From there I was in a perfect position to drop another singularity between my enemies. Once again they found themselves unable to deal with my biotics, dangling helpless in mid-air until I could tear through their armor with my sidearm.

I glanced around. For the moment the corridor stood empty, except for the dead. I ran back to Harrison’s office.

“Cam?”

He rose from behind his desk, sweating and pale. “What in heaven’s name . . .”

“Cerberus. I’ve taken care of them for the moment, but there are bound to be more on the way. We have to get to the Archives and transmit the data.”

He nodded, shaky but clearly thinking, and opened his omni-tool. “Faiza?”

No answer, even after he tried three times.

“Faiza planned to go to the mess hall while you and I met,” I told him at last. “The mess hall is centrally located and always has a number of people in it. Cam, Cerberus would probably have struck there first.”

He glanced at me in shock, and then nodded. “You’re undoubtedly right.”

“Do you have a sidearm? Anything you could use to defend yourself?”

“No. I’ve never learned to use one.”

I frowned. “You had better stay here, under cover.”

“No,” he said, some determination seeping back into his voice. “I know the Archives. I might be able to help you.”

“All right. If the Alliance is holding out anywhere, it will be at the tram station. That’s where we need to go.”

“Smashing. I know a short-cut through the labs.”

We hurried. I took the lead, sidearm and biotics at the ready, listening for any sign of more Cerberus troops. Soon we heard more gunfire up ahead, and the sound of heavy weapons. I began to worry: _what if there are too many Cerberus between us and the Archives?_

“This way,” said Harrison, pointing to the left.

“ _There they are!_ ” More Cerberus troops, appearing some distance behind, breaking into a lumbering run to intercept us. Too many for me to deal with all at once.

I dropped a singularity into the corridor behind us and ran, following Harrison. He opened a door and rushed through, with me on his heels. As soon as I was inside, he locked the door behind me. I glanced around and saw several other human scientists, with confused expressions on their faces.

“Cam!”

“What’s going on?”

“These interruptions are _intolerable . . .”_

“Quiet, _please.”_ Harrison held up his hands to gather attention. “The Archives are under attack. We must prepare to evacuate.”

Cerberus troops appeared in the corridor outside, looking at all of us through the transparent partitions along that wall. One of them tried the door, found it locked. Then he turned to a control panel beside the door and began examining it closely.

Harrison struggled to gain control of the scientists in the room. Uneasy, I glanced around to find escape routes. I saw another door in the back of the room, and moved in that direction, only to see the activation panel blink red as I approached it. A moment’s work with my omni-tool failed to crack it open.

_“Cam!”_ I shouted, cutting through the growing babble. “We’re locked in.”

Harrison frowned, and then whirled to look at the Cerberus troops, still working with the control panel they had found.

“My God,” said one of the scientists. “The decon cycle.”

Another rushed to the corridor wall, began hammering on the transparent partition and screaming. The Cerberus troops took no notice.

Again I glanced around, my heart racing, frantic to find a way out of what began to look like a death trap.

_Up there. The ventilation duct_.

I saw a vent cover, large enough for someone to squeeze into the duct. My right fist flared blue-white. I seized the cover telekinetically and yanked it away. The humans turned to stare at me as I leaped up onto a lab table, scattering instruments and priceless artifacts. Another leap, assisted by a flare of biotics to manage my mass, and I had the edge of the duct in both hands. I scrambled into the tiny space.

“Cam! Come on!”

He did his best, scrambling onto the table and reaching upward while the others milled about and shouted in panic. He reached up for my hand as I leaned out, my biotics flaring, ready to help him up.

I heard a sharp _buzz_. Crimson light flared, giving the lab the look of a charnel house.

Time stretched out.

I realized Harrison had no way to make the climb in the moments we had left.

I caught his terrified gaze for just an instant. Then I recoiled, pulling myself up into the duct and rolling to the side, away from the opening.

I did my best to close my aural cavities to the sound, as the decontamination fields incinerated Harrison and his colleagues where they stood.


	6. The Quest Interrupted

**_11 April 2186, Prothean Archives, Deseado Crater/Mars_ **

_Caught like vermin in a trap_.

Stuck in a ventilation duct, two Cerberus troopers only moments behind me, I frantically crawled and squirmed to get away. Every time I paused to catch my bearings, my enemies began firing at me, forcing me to scurry further on.

I wasn’t sure where I was. I knew, though, that _I was going the wrong way_. The Archives chamber was _behind_ me, getting more distant with every meter of duct traversed, and with it possibly the only hope any of us had to win the war against the Reapers.

_Damn Cerberus!_

I didn’t know how, but the Illusive Man’s soldiers had attacked the Archives with ruthless speed and almost no warning. The Alliance garrison might still be holding out, but I had found no other survivors on my side of the access tramway. I felt horribly alone.

_The vehicle hangar might be in this direction. Perhaps I can get away somehow from these two beasts, steal a ground vehicle. But then what? Cross thousands of kilometers of rough country, to reach Port Lowell and my ship? That will take days, assuming I can navigate the Martian outback at all, and the Reapers will almost certainly be there before me._

It seemed like a terrible plan, but I had no other.

Gunfire behind me, much too close, echoing loudly in the tight space. I flinched as a bullet rang just beside my head, and tried to move even faster.

 _There. The end of the duct, and a vent cover_. _That must be the vehicle hangar_.

I reached the cover, pushed at it, a sour taste of terror in my mouth as I heard the Cerberus troopers getting closer. Desperate, I flipped end for end and _kicked_ at the cover with both legs, a blue flare of biotics lending some extra force. _“Ai!”_

The cover popped off with a great _clang_.

I flung myself into empty space, by great good luck landing with both feet firmly on a second-level catwalk. I vaulted over some containers, down to the floor, and ran. While I fled, I counted seconds in my mind. At the critical moment I spun around, just in time to see one Cerberus trooper jumping down and the other still in the mouth of the vent. My mind and my right hand went into motion. With a snarling noise, a singularity popped into existence right between the two of them, sweeping them both up into a vortex of forces.

 _Vermin in a trap can turn on you_.

I drew my Shuriken and fired two bursts. They fell. I walked over, no longer in any hurry, and gave each of them their kill-shots.

Then the miracle occurred.

“Liara!”

I turned, and felt astonished relief wash over me like a joyous tide.

“Shepard!”

My bondmate had come, in full battle-rattle, two other soldiers at his side. I even recognized them.

“James.”

Built like a small mountain, even more imposing than usual in his heavy armor, James Vega grinned at me. “Doc. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“Ashley.” This time my voice sounded _much_ more chilly.

Dark-haired and beautiful, looking as sleek and deadly as ever in her own combat gear, Ashley Williams gave me a silent, hesitant nod. Yes, she knew just why I had cause to be angry with her. Of course, she had reason to be angry with me as well.

 _Some unfinished business to resolve there_.

Then Shepard swept me into an enthusiastic embrace. I strained for a moment to kiss him, just a brush of my lips against his to set fire running down my spine, and then he set me down.

“Thank the Goddess you’re alive,” I said.

“You too, Liara.”

“I was so worried when the reports came in. I’m sorry about Earth.”

“Yeah,” said Ashley, stepping up to stand just behind Shepard, her voice rough with strain. “It was difficult to leave.”

Compassion brushed old anger aside. “Ashley, I’m sorry.”

She only nodded, a hint of moisture in her eyes.

I turned back to Shepard. “Not that I’m ungrateful. The Goddess knows it’s a terrible mess here, and I was _beyond_ desperate when you appeared. But _why_ are you here?”

“Hackett ordered us to come. He wasn’t sure, but he said your work might have paid off.”

I gave him a small smile and turned away, leading them toward a window looking out on the Archives. “Yes. It has.”

“Hallelujah,” muttered James. “Some _answers_ , finally.”

“Maybe. With the help of some of the researchers here, I’ve uncovered a _blueprint_ for the Crucible.”

“Whoa, hold up,” said James. “What’s the Crucible?”

“A device. One that might wipe out the Reapers. If we can build it.”

“I saw your earlier reports,” said Shepard. “I guess I’ll believe it when I see it. How do we get the data?”

“We compiled everything in the Archives. I was almost ready to transmit the whole package to Admiral Hackett when Cerberus attacked. All we have to do is get across the tram or the pedway.” I pointed out the window. “That’s assuming Cerberus hasn’t locked them down. There were too many for me to deal with alone, but with all of us here, it might be feasible.”

“What are _they_ after?” Shepard wondered.

“Yeah, they seemed hell-bent on catching _you,”_ said James.

“I think they want what I’m here for,” I told them. “What we’re all here for. The Protheans came close to completing the Crucible. They were convinced that it would destroy the Reapers, but they ran out of time.”

Ashley nodded. “Anything powerful enough to _destroy the Reapers . . .”_

“Just might be something the Illusive Man would be interested in,” finished Shepard.

“So it’s a race to the Archives,” said James.

 _Boom_. The floor trembled beneath our feet.

Shepard whirled, turning to stare at the main access doors on the second level of the hangar. A flare of light and heat appeared along the centerline of the door, signs of a cutting torch being applied to break into the locked compartment. “We’ve got company.”

“Bring it on,” growled James.

“Not this time, Lieutenant.”

_“What?”_

“Get back to the shuttle. If Cerberus beats us to the Archives, I need you covering the exits.”

“But . . .”

 _“Now,_ Lieutenant.”

James shook his head angrily, but he put up no more resistance. He stalked out onto the vehicle lift, checking his weapon and donning his helmet as Shepard operated the controls to lower him into the airlock compartment. The rest of us dove for cover as the lift closed.

_“There she is! There’s the asari bitch!”_

Cerberus troopers spilled out into the hangar.

This proved to be a serious mistake on their part. They were only expecting one asari archaeologist.

What they got was _Shepard_.

I did my part, of course. I dropped a singularity into the middle of the Cerberus formation, pulling two of them up into a helpless spin while Shepard and Ashley tore them to shreds with gunfire. Then Shepard produced a terribly powerful _shockwave_ that detonated my singularity, throwing the rest of them off their feet.

“I didn’t know you could do that!” I observed.

“I’ve had a few months with not much to do but train.”

“All right, let’s see what else you remember.”

I called a warp up in my right hand, angry blue-white energy like a swarm of stinging insects. He saw it, remembered our fights against the Collectors, and nodded. He used a lightning-quick control gesture to fling a telekinetic _pull_ across the open hangar, hauling two more Cerberus into the air. My warp slammed into his biotic field a moment later and detonated it.

_BOOM!_

Quite suddenly, no Cerberus remained alive.

“Come on,” said Shepard. “It looks like the lift to the second floor is offline. Let’s find another way up.”

We searched the room. It didn’t take long for Ashley to spot a tracked crawler mounted on a maintenance lift. With the lift extended, we climbed up onto the crawler and out into the second-level catwalk.

“Liara, there’s something I don’t get,” said Ashley while we worked. “This is a secured station. How did Cerberus even get in here?”

“I don’t know. We were watching the reports of the Reaper attack on Earth, and then _chaos_. Cerberus everywhere, killing anything that moved.”

“That’s very strange timing. Do you suppose Cerberus is working _with_ the Reapers?”

“I have a hard time believing that,” said Shepard. “Unless their leadership has become indoctrinated somehow.”

“That’s not impossible,” I pointed out as we all emerged onto the catwalk. “Cerberus has been working hard to reverse-engineer Reaper technology. They may have crossed that line without even realizing it.”

“No way to determine that here,” said Shepard. “Come on. Where’s the nearest access to the Archives?”

“The pedway is nearby,” I said. “Through here . . .”

I heard a shout, saw one of the Archives researchers running toward us with raw panic on his face. Then we heard a bark of gunfire, and he fell dead.

Shepard growled in rage and _attacked_. Ashley and I opened fire, but I think Shepard alone accounted for all four of the Cerberus troopers in the next room. He hauled one trooper over a sheaf of conduits and killed him with a biotic-enhanced strike to the face, whirled to fire twice with his shotgun at another, and then flash-charged across the room to take out the last two. I barely had a chance to blink.

As he stalked away down the corridor, I murmured to Ashley. “I’ve almost never seen him fight like that. I remember him being a lot more calculating. Deliberate.”

“Hmm. It was horrible, on Earth. _Normandy_ had to extract him from Vancouver harbor, with Reapers and Reaper troops all around us. I think we all have some issues to work through.” She shook her head. “I’m just glad to see he’s _willing_ to fight Cerberus.”

“Do you still believe he has some loyalty to them?”

“I don’t know.” She scowled at me. “Hey, you’re hardly in a position to give me any assurances. You _gave_ him to them. I don’t remember you mentioning that, last time I saw you.”

“Yes. I gave him to Cerberus, to save his life when the Alliance would not or could not do it.” I turned away, following the signpost of Shepard’s rigid back, and my voice became very cold. “Ashley, he and I have fought too hard, sacrificed too much, to beat the Collectors and then to cut all of our ties to Cerberus. I will _not_ be questioned by you.”

I heard her take a deep breath and then release it. “All right, I suppose I deserved that.”

“He has _earned_ your trust. A thousand times over.”

“Maybe. Still, are you sure he’s really the same man who led us against Saren? What if Cerberus has _changed_ him somehow?”

I swallowed a hot retort and forced myself to respond rationally. “To be honest, I had the same concern at first. When he arrived on Illium, I worried that Cerberus had managed to place him under their control. I soon saw I had no reason to worry. I know that man down to the marrow of his bones, Ashley. I could not possibly be mistaken in this.”

“All right. I still wish you had been up front with me in Mumbai. Finding out he was still alive through nothing but _rumors_ , then seeing him on Horizon . . . it was a shock. I didn’t react very well. I think I’m still trying to get over it.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” I shook my head in self-recrimination. “I should have told you before. I suppose I didn’t want to get my own hopes up too soon. I don’t think I quite believed that Cerberus would truly bring him back. Then when I knew he was alive and fighting, we were already in the middle of the war against the Collectors, too late for us to have that conversation.”

Ashley stopped short. I turned to find Shepard giving us both a mild glare. “I suggest you two resolve your issues _later,”_ he commanded. “Right now I need your eyes open and your minds alert.”

“Aye-aye,” said Ashley. I nodded in agreement.

We emerged into the pedway terminal, weapons and biotics at the ready, but we found no Cerberus waiting for us. I soon holstered my sidearm and led the others to the pedway control station, where Shepard and I worked with the controls while Ashley stood lookout.

“Damn,” I said at last. “The security system has been tampered with, and the pedway’s locked out.”

“Hey, did you see that? Who’s that woman on the vid?” Ashley asked suddenly.

I turned, and saw some of the security consoles play a piece of surveillance footage on a loop. Over and over, a female human came onto the screen, punched a few quick commands into a console, and then hurried out of view.

I recognized her. Then the whole cascade of memories came crashing into my mind.

“Oh _Goddess_. How could I have been so _stupid?”_

“Liara?”

I smashed my fists down on the desk, the only way I could let the frustration out without howling. “She arrived here about a week ago, just before I did. She gave her name as _Dr. Alexander_ , but now I doubt that’s her real identity. I think she’s the same woman who was on Thessia, poking into the archives, while I worked there about six weeks ago. At the time, she used the name _Dr. Eva Coré_.”

“What’s so special about her?” asked Shepard.

“She’s almost certainly a Cerberus infiltrator, and I _never made the connection_ until now. I _knew_ Cerberus was following me from planet to planet, and it somehow escaped my mind that they might have come here as well. Everything that’s happened here, all these deaths, _it’s my fault!”_

“Liara!” Shepard loomed over me, turned me in the chair and took me by the shoulders, preventing me from spiraling out of control with his sheer presence. “It’s _not_ your fault. _Cerberus_ is to blame.”

“I could have prevented all of this. I even suspected there was something amiss. But I let it go, because I was tired and distracted, because I had a headache and my feet hurt and my stomach was rumbling. If I had said even a word to Dr. Harrison, he might have been able to do something.”

“So you made a mistake. So did everyone else who vetted her for access to the Archives. Cerberus is smart and tough, and you can’t expect to beat them every time.”

I dropped my face into my hands for a moment, fighting a sour flood of nausea and shame.

Shepard’s voice dropped to an intimate murmur. “Liara. I need you functioning right now. I need you to help me make Cerberus pay for what they did here.”

I took a deep breath and let my hands fall into my lap, where they balled into fists. “Right.”

He placed a feather-light kiss on my crest and stood back. “That’s better. So what’s our next step?”

“Well, if the pedway is locked down . . .” I turned back to the security console. “There’s a maintenance hatch across the room that leads to the roof. We can cut across to the next building and make our way through the labs to the tram station.”

“That’s more like it. Let’s get moving.”

* * *

I realized we were in serious trouble the moment we emerged onto the roof. The winds had picked up, goading even the thin Martian atmosphere into producing a low howl and pushing at us. In the distance I could see a dust storm, towering kilometers high, bearing down slowly on the Archives. Shepard couldn’t raise _Normandy_ , could barely get through to James back at the shuttle.

We hurried, not wanting to be stranded on Mars for the duration of the storm.

We fought two squads of Cerberus troops, and had to work our way around a defense turret they had subverted to their own use. By the time we dealt with the last of them, my remorse had hardened into a bitterly cold fury. The Illusive Man had not come to Mars, to calmly argue for his position and claim the best of motives. We found only his soldiers, carrying out his will.

Butchers. Murderers. They had left not a single man or woman alive.

We found Faiza in the mess hall, dead of asphyxiation, her face horribly distorted, her fingers broken as if she had tried to claw her way into a pressurized compartment.

We found Cam in the lab where I abandoned him, nothing left but charcoal and bones after the decon fields had swept over him a hundred times.

We found dozens of others. Some of them had been forced to kneel before being shot in the back of the head.

Yet that was not the worst of it.

Once we reached the tram station, at first we could see no way to cross over to the Archives. Cerberus had called both cars to their side and locked down the controls. So Ashley conceived a plan of deception, using a Cerberus helmet communicator to trick the survivors into sending over a tram. She opened a dead trooper’s helmet – and recoiled in horror.

The dead trooper no longer appeared human. He had blue-glowing implants instead of eyes, his skin shone a sickly yellowish-gray, and tubes and implanted machinery violated his tissues.

“God!” Ashley spat in revulsion. “He looks like a husk.”

“Yeah, not quite . . .” Shepard bent close to examine the corpse. “They’ve certainly done _something_ to him.”

“He looks like Paul Grayson did, just before he died,” I murmured.

“Cerberus is doing this to _their own people?”_ Ashley demanded.

I nodded. “It fits. Improved capability, along with fanatic loyalty to the cause.”

“God. Shepard, what if they’ve done something like that to _you?_ You’re full of Cerberus cybernetics.”

Shepard scowled. “How can you compare me to that thing?”

“If they had changed you, would you even know?”

I stepped in. “Ashley, I think you’ve missed something. Look at the timing. We found Cerberus experimenting with husks and Reaper technology even while we fought Saren. It’s possible they used some of that technology to revive Shepard. But we never saw them use the technology to _control_ their own people. That’s a new development.”

“What are you getting at, Liara?”

“It started after Shepard destroyed the Collector base. After he, Miranda Lawson, and I all broke away from Cerberus at the same time.”

Ashley cocked her head, thinking hard.

“That _does_ make sense,” said Shepard. “Ash, you should have seen the Illusive Man while we fought the Collectors. He kept trying to _persuade_ us to follow along, to see things his way. Even when I was pissed off at him, even when I told him I’d had enough of his manipulation, he kept at it. That’s not the behavior of someone who knew he had an override switch in my brain.”

I nodded in agreement. “Until the Collector base. I think it was a terrible shock to him, to have all three of us turn against him at once and _get away with it_. I spoke to him for a few moments after Miranda cut off his transmission. I’ve never seen him so bitterly angry.”

“So you think he changed his strategy?” Ashley asked, her voice slow and reflective. “Started using the Reaper tech so no one could ever betray him like that again?”

“It fits his psychological profile.”

“I’m not even going to ask how you laid hands on _the Illusive Man’s_ psych profile.”

I glanced at Shepard. His eyes flickered, a micro-expression I could read as clearly as if he had spoken aloud. _Ash doesn’t know you’re the Shadow Broker_.

I nodded slightly. “We can discuss that later. In the meantime, Ash, would you _please_ set aside your mistrust so we can focus on the mission?”

“You’re right,” she sighed. “I have to stop letting my own issues get in the way. Will you both accept my apology?”

Shepard nodded, solemnly shaking Ashley’s hand. “You bet.”

I nodded in relieved agreement.

* * *

After one last fierce fight in the Archives security checkpoint, we finally reached the Archives themselves. Shepard and Ashley stopped for a moment, not lowering their weapons, staring about the vast space in wonder. The sound of the approaching storm echoed in the still air.

Shepard recovered first. “Ash, take over-watch. Be careful. We haven’t found that Dr. Coré yet, or whatever her name is.”

Ashley nodded, and moved to a secure vantage point. Shepard and I hurried to the interface consoles. I immediately began to call up the directory where Faiza and I had stored the reconstructed Crucible data.

Unfortunately we were interrupted almost at once.

_“Shepard.”_

I whirled, my sidearm already leveled, sensing Shepard following suit at my side.

A status hologram for the Prothean devices had faded away, replaced by an image of a male human wearing an expensive business suit. He smoked a cigarette and watched both of us with calm appraisal.

“Illusive Man,” I said coldly.

_“Fascinating race, the Protheans. They left all of this for us to discover, but we’ve squandered it. The Alliance has known about the Archives for over thirty years, and what have they done with it?”_

“What do _you_ want?” Shepard demanded.

The lllusive Man glanced past us at the Archives themselves. Almost against his will, Shepard turned to look in that direction as well.

 _“What I’ve always wanted,”_ the Illusive Man said at last. _“The data in these artifacts holds the key to solving the Reaper threat.”_

Shepard shook his head in disgust. “I’ve seen your _solution_. You turn your own people into murdering monsters.”

_“Hardly. They’re being improved.”_

_“Improved?”_

_“That’s what separates us, Shepard. Where you see only a means to destroy, I see a way to control, to dominate and harness the Reapers’ power. Imagine how strong humanity could be, if_ we _controlled_ them.”

“Earth is under siege, and you’re hatching a scheme to control the Reapers?”

The Illusive Man took on the air of a wise elder, patiently correcting his students. _“You’ve always been short-sighted. Hasty. Your destruction of the Collector base proved that.”_

“That base was an abomination. Hundreds of thousands of humans were murdered there!”

 _“And so you threw away any chance we had to make those sacrifices worthwhile.”_ The Illusive Man took another drag on his cigarette. When his face emerged from behind its veil of smoke, it had become hard and determined. _“This isn’t your fight any more, Shepard. You can’t defeat the Reapers, even with the Prothean data.”_

“Work with us, then. Bring your resources into the fight, and we’ll destroy the Reapers together.”

 _“You and Dr. T’Soni would do better than most, but the odds aren’t in your favor. More importantly, I don’t_ want _the Reapers destroyed. We can dominate them._ Use _their power. Harness their very essence to bring humanity to the apex of evolution.”_

“You’ve gone too far.” Shepard stepped close to the hologram, using his voice and presence to persuade. “The Reapers will kill us all if we don’t stop fighting each other.”

_“I don’t expect you to understand, Shepard. And I’m certainly not looking for your approval.”_

I frowned. Something in the Illusive Man’s voice at that point . . .

_“You were nothing but a tool. An agent with a singular purpose. Despite our differences, you were relatively successful. But like the rest of the relics in that place, your time is over.”_

“Enough talk.” Shepard turned his back on the hologram, dismissing it from his thoughts. “Liara?”

I turned to the console, began to open the files once more . . . and _failed_.

 _“Don’t interfere with my plans, Shepard,”_ said the Illusive Man. _“I won’t warn you again.”_

“Duly noted.”

“Shepard!” I shouted in panic. “The data, they’re not here. They’re being erased.”

 _“Goodbye, Shepard,”_ said the Illusive Man, fading into nonexistence.

“Erased _how?”_ Shepard demanded.

“I don’t know. It’s all being uploaded somewhere . . .”

Then we heard Ashley’s shout, as she went down under a sudden flurry of blows.

I whirled, my sidearm out once more, and saw a flash of white shining in the dim light on the outer perimeter of the chamber. _“There!_ It’s the Cerberus infiltrator. She must have the data!”

Shepard took off in a dead sprint.

I followed, pausing for only a moment to help Ashley to her feet.

Goddess, the infiltrator was _fast_. I think I knew even then that she wasn’t really human. She ran through the security checkpoint, dropping an incendiary charge behind her to slow us, and then clambered up an access ladder to the roof.

The three of us pursued, although only Shepard had much chance to keep up with her. Ashley was in superb condition and had the full battery of Alliance genemods, but she had no Cerberus cybernetics to improve her physical performance. I was in good condition too, but I wasn’t a soldier at all. Within moments Shepard vanished far ahead of me, and Ashley began to pull away as well.

I put my head down, took deep breaths, and _forced_ my body to respond.

Up a ladder, a shaved second to put on a respirator mask, and then I emerged onto the roof. The wind howled, carrying grit and fines that scraped at my exposed skin. I could scarcely see. The heart of the storm was almost upon us.

I stumbled along, one hand raised to shield my face. Then it occurred to me to put up a biotic barrier, keeping the dust at bay. That helped. I could run once more, vault over a low barrier, speed up while moving through a momentary shelter, climb another ladder. I could barely see a dark shape in the dust-laden air up ahead, Ashley doing her best to keep up without abandoning me.

Suddenly I heard Shepard’s voice over the comms. _“Damn it, she’s getting away! James?_ Normandy? _Anybody?”_

I finally caught up with Ashley, perched on a ledge, bringing her assault rifle to bear on a Cerberus shuttle as it began to rise away from us. Shepard stood just ahead, staring impotently upward.

The respirator mask seemed to suffocate me. I couldn’t get enough air. I tried to call up my biotics, but nothing responded.

A wash of static, and then James’s voice: _“. . . Commander. I’ve got this.”_

Another shuttle, this one painted in Alliance blue, swept down out of the storm like a hammer. It _rammed_ the Cerberus shuttle at high speed, forcing it back down.

Right on top of us.

I shouted and dove to the side, feeling a sharp pain as I twisted an ankle, and then thirty tons of metal slammed into the roof bare meters away. I only had time to be terrified after the fact, realizing almost at once that the Cerberus shuttle had _missed_ crushing the life out of me.

Silence, except for the howling and thunder of the storm.

I pushed myself to a seated position, decided not to put weight on that ankle just yet. Then Ashley appeared, slinging her rifle on her back so she could use both arms to help me.

“The data,” I groaned. “We need the data.”

_Crash. Crash._

“What the . . .”

The wrecked Cerberus shuttle rocked as its door panel suddenly flew off. Out of the flames a female figure emerged, its skin and clothing burned away to expose a _surface_ , silver-white where it wasn’t covered with ash and soot. Its eyes shone white, covered with a blue holographic visor. It no longer looked even remotely human.

Ashley shouted and ducked out from under my arm, drawing her rifle once more. I staggered back, shouting in pain as my weight came down on the injured ankle, but I also tried to draw my own sidearm.

The thing dodged Ashley’s one burst of gunfire, hammered her weapon away with a ruthless cross-check, and then seized Ashley by the front of her helmet. It seemed horribly _strong_ , holding her dangling above the roof with one hand.

Shepard appeared, sprinting around the corner of the crashed Alliance shuttle and drawing his sidearm. _“Let her go!”_

It cocked its head, as if considering the situation, and then whirled. Slammed Ashley’s head against the hull of the Cerberus shuttle with terrible force. Then again, and _again._

 _“No!”_ Shepard shouted.

It dropped Ashley like a broken toy, and then _flashed_ across the open space, charging Shepard. I tried to bring my sidearm to bear, but it was too fast.

 _Bang-bang-bang._ Shepard rapid-fired his sidearm, striking the thing repeatedly in its center of mass.

Finally, less than three meters away from him, it twisted and went down in a shower of sparks.

He ran to Ashley, where she lay limp and pathetic under the wrath of the storm. “Ash! My God, _Ash!”_

Darkness loomed in the air above us. I glanced up, at first expecting to see the storm clouds threatening, but instead I saw a long, sleek shape in the sky.

 _Normandy_.

 _“You there, Commander?”_ A voice crackled over the radio, so familiar that I gasped in relief. Joker. _“We’ve got Reaper signatures in orbit. ETA less than a minute. We’ve got to get moving!”_

Shepard bent and swung Ashley into a carry position. “Liara?”

“I can walk,” I groaned, starting to hobble toward _Normandy_ and its access ramp.

“James, get that _thing.”_

“Aye-aye.” The burly lieutenant bent and hefted the infiltrator’s shell into his arms.

Battered but alive, we climbed into _Normandy_ ’s cargo hold. The access ramp closed behind us.

I collapsed against a stack of crates and peeled the respirator mask away, gasping for air as I felt the ship rise and flee into the Martian sky.


	7. Council

**_11 April 2186, Interstellar Space_ **

I heard the outer door of the medical bay open, followed by Shepard’s voice. “Liara?”

“Back here,” I called from the rear of the compartment, in _Normandy_ ’s AI core.

He appeared in the inner doorway. “We’re a few minutes from the relay transit to Widow. Joker says we should be docking at the Citadel within the hour.”

I turned away from my work, crossed the room to step into his embrace. It felt good to simply hold him for a minute, feeling the strength of his arms around me, the warmth of his cheek against my crest. “Goddess,” I breathed into his chest. “What a day.”

“It’s not over yet.” He tipped my face up for a brief kiss, and then released me. “What have you and EDI managed to learn from that thing?”

I looked back at the shell of the Cerberus infiltrator, still lying motionless on a work table, wrapped in sensors and a thicket of hardline connections. “Its data storage is still intact. We’ve been able to recover all the Crucible data. We also learned that I need to ask Miranda Lawson some _very_ pointed questions.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Have you ever wondered how Cerberus could reconstruct your brain, with your previous memories intact?” I turned away from him, finding it difficult to look into his eyes. “They had a crib sheet. All of your memories in storage.”

“How did they . . . oh. Liara, you _didn’t.”_

“I did. They had a cybernetic device for reading and recording memory traces, based on asari technology. I permitted them to read _my_ memories, so they could sort through the traces and recover yours. Miranda gave me a solemn promise that the data would never be used except in support of the Lazarus Project.”

He gave me a cynical smile. “You believed her?”

“I doubt she had any way to control what was done with the data after she left Cerberus. Apparently the Illusive Man recovered the records from the wreckage of Lazarus Station, and found another purpose for them.” I pointed at the lifeless shell. “That thing has a copy. In some sense, it remembers what it was like to be Liara T’Soni, as of about two years and nine months ago.”

“Hmm. A quick way to produce an infiltrator mech that’s also an expert in Prothean archaeology.”

“Not to mention it would have some insight into my psychology. It might have been able to predict my movements. I wonder if that one machine hasn’t shadowed me for most of the last two months.”

“Possibly. You’re sure it’s offline?”

“EDI is sure. She’s continuing to data-mine its deep storage, to see if there’s anything we’ve missed so far.”

“Okay. You’ll be ready to present your findings to the Council?”

“As soon as we reach the Citadel.” I glanced into his face, and saw a flicker of uncertainty there. “Shepard, I’m sure the Council will see the need to help. They can’t _possibly_ continue to deny the existence of the Reapers at this point.”

“It will be a _hell_ of a short war if they do.” He turned back out into the medical bay, motioning for me to follow. “What about Ash?”

I shook my head as we walked over to the covered medical bed on which Ashley lay. “I wish some medical personnel had been on board when you had to flee Earth. I’ve done what I can for her, put her into temporary stasis, but I’m not a qualified physician. She needs emergency care.”

“I’ve called ahead. Huerta Memorial will have a trauma team standing by in the docking bay when we arrive.”

“Good.” I sighed, feeling overcome with fatigue. “By the way, I believe the human custom is to say: _happy birthday.”_

He turned and _stared_ at me. “My God. That never even occurred to me.”

“I can understand that. You spent your last two birthdays dead, and it would be rather difficult to celebrate this one.”

He wrapped me in his arms once more, making me feel warm and cherished for a moment. “I suppose you’re right. At least the two of us are together for this fight, from the very beginning. That gives me some confidence we might be able to celebrate the _next_ one.”

_Goddess, I hope so._

_“Commander.”_

“Go ahead, EDI.”

_“I’m receiving a transmission over the secondary QEC. I believe it’s from Admiral Hackett.”_

My eyes widened in surprise. “Hackett has survived?”

Shepard made a grim smile, his eyes suddenly alight. “If anyone could pull off a fighting retreat against the Reapers, it’s him. EDI, forward the transmission to the comm room. Liara and I will be right there.”

* * *

Shepard stalked into _Normandy_ ’s new comm facility, with me less than two steps behind. We could already hear Admiral Hackett’s voice, cloudy with distortion and subharmonics.

_“. . . Shepard, are you reading me? Commander?”_

“EDI, see if you can clear this up a bit,” Shepard ordered.

_“I’ll do my best.”_

Suddenly Hackett’s image on the stage came into focus, enough that I could see details of his uniform and face, see the grinding weariness in his body language.

_“Commander. Did you get to the Archives?”_

“Yes, Admiral. I was able to pick up Liara and her data. We had to fight through about a platoon of Cerberus troops.”

_“Hmm. I was worried Cerberus might try something. Liara, were you able to recover everything?”_

“I believe so,” I said. A touch to my omni-tool sent a video file into the link for all of us to examine. Hackett and Shepard saw the Crucible for the first time: a vast mechanism, several kilometers long, with a massive spherical head containing its most critical assemblies. “We have a nearly complete blueprint for the device. A weapon that the Protheans believed would destroy the Reapers, if they could only complete it in time.”

_“Send us your data, then. We’ll do our own analysis. If your instincts are right, this might be the key we need.”_

“I’ve learned to trust Liara’s instincts, sir.”

 _“So have I. You said the blueprint was_ nearly _complete?”_

“One component remains missing,” I reported. “Here. Something the Protheans called _the Catalyst_. The Mars Archives didn’t go into more detail. We may need to continue searching for that last piece of the puzzle.”

_“Just building what you have will be a monumental undertaking. Especially given the circumstances.”_

“Were you able to get away from the Reaper forces, Admiral?” asked Shepard.

_“Barely. The Fourth has been shattered, nothing left from it but a few cruisers and frigates. I had to sacrifice the Second to cover our retreat from Sol and Arcturus. The First, Third, and Fifth all took heavy losses. Still, we managed to disengage and make it to the fallback position at Alpha Cygni. We still have a fleet-in-being. If we can find the resources, we might be able to build this Crucible device.”_

My bondmate set his jaw in determination. “I’ll get you those resources, Admiral.”

_“Good. Talk to the Council, show them what you’ve found. Convince them that we have to meet the enemy together if we’re going to have any chance to survive this.”_

“Hmm. The Council doesn’t exactly have a long record of paying attention to us.”

_“They’re still the best chance we have.”_

Shepard tossed off a crisp salute. “I’ll do my best.”

_“I have every confidence in you, Commander. Hackett out.”_

* * *

**_11 April 2186, Citadel_ **

As soon as we arrived, Shepard found himself buried in Alliance business. The orders returning him to active command of _Normandy_ had not reached Alliance authorities on the Citadel, so his legal and military status remained unclear. This forced him to meet with Alliance officials, and contact Hackett over the QEC once more, before Admiral Saneyoshi became willing to confirm his command. Shepard took the opportunity to request assignment of crew, provisions, and equipment to _Normandy_ , preparing the ship for long-term deployment. Then he took a few minutes to visit Huerta Memorial Hospital and ensure that Ashley was receiving proper care.

I had no such obligations. Instead, I obtained an audience with the Citadel Council.

There is an old human metaphor to describe the use of influence: _pulling strings_. I did nothing so delicate. I took hold of a heavy cable that lay close at hand, and _hauled_ on it.

In short, I contacted Vara and had her place a call to Councilor Tevos. Using the advanced comm equipment aboard _Sheguntai,_ along with a set of very closely-held authentication codes, she could _impersonate_ the Shadow Broker. She demanded that “the Broker’s representative,” Liara T’Soni, should be permitted to address the Council on the matter of the attack on Earth. _Immediately_.

Udina would not have been able to convince his colleagues to see me on such short notice. The trick would not have worked on Sparatus or Valern. On the other hand, the Shadow Broker had considerable leverage on Tevos, and she knew it. Thus I could walk directly into the Council’s private chambers while it remained in emergency session, less than half an hour after _Normandy_ docked at the Citadel.

I took a deep breath, doing my best to banish shock, hunger, and exhaustion. I seized control of my body language to project supreme confidence, and _strode_ into the room.

A quick _gestalt_ glance: Udina looking haggard and worn, Sparatus sitting on the very edge of his chair as if he could barely contain his outrage, Valern with his hood thrown forward to conceal most of his face. Only Tevos kept her face and posture under strict control, still putting up a façade of calm reason.

“Councilors. I have just arrived from the Sol system aboard _Normandy_.” I glanced around the table, catching each pair of eyes in turn. “I do not know what reports have reached you so far. I can attest that the worst has come to pass. _The Reapers are attacking Earth.”_

Sparatus recoiled in disgust. _“Pah._ These so-called _Reapers_ again. Is there no end to this nonsense?”

Tevos shook her head. “Councilor, it is not reasonable for you to reject Dr. T’Soni’s testimony. We have known for several days that _something_ catastrophic is happening to trailing of Council space. Credible reports of the apparent collapse of the Batarian Hegemony, and a flood of batarian refugees crossing Alliance space in our direction.”

“If some force attacked the batarians, the natural next step would be to invade human territory,” observed Valern.

Sparatus fumed, but he put up no further objection.

Tevos turned to me. “What information do you have, Dr. T’Soni?”

I stood at parade rest, my hands linked behind my back, and made my voice very crisp and cold.

“Councilors, about six hours ago a massive invasion force entered the Sol system. The Alliance fleets were forewarned and had already gone to a war footing. Most of their ships had recently been upgraded with new armor, kinetic barriers, and weapons systems. All of these preparations made no difference whatsoever.

“The invaders engaged the Alliance’s First Fleet near the Charon relay. Within minutes, they also engaged the Fourth Fleet in Earth orbital space. Within minutes after _that_ , they landed on Earth in overwhelming force. I was on Mars at the time. I personally saw real-time news broadcasts from many of Earth’s largest cities, all of them under simultaneous attack.

“The enemy’s largest ships are clearly of design similar to _Sovereign_. We have not been able to complete an order-of-battle assessment, but it is clear that the enemy has _hundreds_ of such ships, along with many smaller vessels. We have also heard reports of ground troops on Earth in very large numbers, although we have not yet been able to verify that.

“The Alliance has _already_ taken losses greater than any in its history. The Reapers destroyed over one-third of the Alliance Navy before Admiral Hackett could disengage and escape. The enemy has apparently demolished Arcturus Station. We have no information as to the fate of Prime Minister Shastri, his cabinet, or the rest of the Alliance Parliament. We estimate about a seventy percent probability that Councilor Udina is now the most senior surviving member of the Alliance government.”

I paused for a moment, watching that sink in. All of the Councilors sat still and speechless. Udina had turned a sickly greyish color, leaning heavily on the table to remain upright.

The door opened again behind me. I didn’t look away from the Councilors, but I felt a familiar presence walk up and stand at my side.

 _Shepard_.

“Councilors,” he began. “I’m sure Liara has filled you in on the situation. The Reapers are here, they are attacking Earth, and this is only the beginning. We need your help. Everything you can spare.”

“Each of us faces a similar situation,” said Tevos. “If this _is_ the Reapers, we must see to our own defenses, or face extinction. If we lend you our own strength, our own worlds may very well fall.”

Udina stirred. “Colleagues, we _must_ fight this enemy _together.”_

“So that’s your entire strategy?” snapped Valern. “We should just follow you to Earth and throw away our forces in a hopeless battle?”

“I don’t expect you to follow us without a plan,” said Shepard, turning to me.

“Councilors, there is a possibility,” I said. “We have a blueprint, created by the Protheans during their war with the Reapers.”

“A blueprint for what?” demanded Valern.

“A device.” I called up the Crucible image for the Councilors to examine. “It appears to be a weapon of some sort.”

“Capable of destroying the Reapers?”

“So it would seem.”

The salarian leaned forward to inspect the images closely. “The scale . . . it would be a colossal undertaking.”

Shepard shook his head. “Not necessarily. We’ve already forwarded the plans to Admiral Hackett. The remnants of the human fleet are already gathering resources to begin construction.”

“Our initial calculations suggest the device is very feasible to build,” I said, adding more data to the displays.

 _“If_ we work together!” Shepard stated.

“Have you considered that the Reapers destroyed the Protheans?” asked Tevos. “What good did this weapon do them?”

Sparatus turned in his chair, staring at Tevos with abrupt suspicion.

I nodded to myself.

_Now that the Reapers are indisputably here, Tevos has set aside all pretense of doubt in their existence._

“My own research indicates that the Protheans placed a great deal of confidence in this device,” I said aloud. “They were convinced that it would defeat the Reapers, but they began work on its construction very late in their war. They simply ran out of time. We may have more success, if we seize the opportunity at once.”

Tevos stared at us with wide eyes. “Do you truly believe this can stop the Reapers?”

“Liara believes it can work, and so do I.” Once more, Shepard looked around the table, catching each of the Councilors’ eyes in turn. “And while I haven’t always agreed with Udina, he’s right about this. We need to stand together. Now more than ever. _The Reapers won’t stop at Earth_. They’ll destroy every trace of our civilizations if we don’t find a way to stop them.”

Tevos glanced to her left to confer silently with Valern. Then to her right . . .

All at once, I realized that Councilor Sparatus was paying no attention to any of the rest of us. One hand rested at the side of his head, as he listened to a private comm channel.

 _“Spirits,”_ he said at last, so much raw passion in his voice that I felt an icy chill down my spine.

“Councilor?” asked Tevos.

The turian slowly rose from the table, his predator’s gaze completely unfocused. His hand fell to his side as if the nerves in that arm had been cut. “Councilors . . . I’ve just received word . . . Palaven is under attack. We had almost no warning. Our forces fight back as best they can, but the enemy is more powerful than anything we’ve ever faced.”

I felt a sudden burst of vicious rage, which I did my best to keep far away from my face.

_What, no air quotes this time?_

“Councilor, we have a proposal on the table,” Tevos reminded him. “Should we support the human request to move to the defense of Earth, while commencing work on this Prothean device?”

“I . . .” The turian rallied visibly. “I’m sorry. I can’t support such a proposal at this time. I must consult with my government in more detail.”

Just like that, Sparatus rose and left the table, brushing past Shepard on his way out the door. In shock, Tevos and Valern watched the turian depart. Udina simply gazed at the Crucible images, shaking his head in weary disgust.

Tevos sighed. “It appears we cannot lend you the Council’s support at this moment. The cruel and unfortunate truth is that while the Reapers focus on Earth, we can prepare and regroup.”

“If we can manage to secure our own space,” offered Valern, “then we may once again consider aiding you.”

“I’m sorry, Commander.” Tevos stared at Shepard, not without compassion. “For now, that is the best we can do.”

* * *

“They’re a bunch of self-concerned _jackasses_ , Shepard!”

Back in his office, Udina had recovered some of his strength of will, replacing shock with a _towering_ rage. I sat down and leaned back into a couch a few meters away from the Councilor’s desk, too tired to do anything but watch as Shepard and Udina discussed the situation.

“We may have saved their asses when _Sovereign_ attacked. We may have a spot on the Council. But humanity will _always_ be considered second-rate!”

“How can they be such fools?” Shepard folded his arms and stared out the windows, watching the skycar traffic on the Presidium ring outside. “Ashley Williams predicted this years ago, while fought Saren. Said the Council would throw humanity to the wolves the moment the saw the need. I didn’t want to agree with her at the time, but _damn_ if she hasn’t turned out to be right.”

“They’re scared, and they’re looking out for themselves.”

“Our _people_ are scared,” said a flanging voice, “and we’re looking out for them, the best we know how.”

Councilor Sparatus stepped down into Udina’s work area. The change in his demeanor surprised me. Gone now, the shock and fear he had displayed in the Council’s private chambers. Now he walked with confidence, his predator’s gaze assessing Shepard and Udina with barely a glance for me.

“Councilor,” greeted Udina, his emotions now concealed under his smooth diplomat’s tone.

“Commander. I’ve had a chance to consult with the Hierarchy. I still can’t give you what you need, but I _can_ tell you how to get it.”

“I’m listening,” said Shepard.

“Primarch Fedorian has proposed a war summit,” the turian explained. “He wants to meet with the leaders of the other major powers to discuss a _combined_ effort against the Reapers.”

“That’s good news. What’s the catch?”

“Unfortunately, we lost contact with him soon after the Reapers hit Palaven. The summit won’t proceed without him. We need to find him, and get him clear of the fighting. _Normandy_ is one of the few ships that could extract the Primarch undetected.”

Shepard folded his arms. “So far, all I’ve heard is how I can help you.”

“It may seem that way. But if this summit takes place, the leaders there will be the ones deciding our future. The fate of our fleets. Where they fight, and with whom. A grateful Primarch would be a valuable ally in your bid to unite us.”

“We’re at war, and you want me to play politician?”

“If it gets you what you need, what does it matter?”

Shepard made a disgusted noise in his throat, but then he dropped his arms and nodded in agreement.

“Our latest intelligence says that the Primarch has been evacuated to a base on Palaven’s largest moon,” said Sparatus. “It’s the most heavily fortified position in Palaven orbital space. There or nowhere, he can hold out long enough for you to reach him.”

“Thanks,” said Shepard. “I’ll talk to my chain of command and see if I can get clearance for the mission.”

“Hmm.” The turian cocked his head, staring at Shepard for a long moment. “You know, Commander, I find myself wishing I had taken you and your wife much more seriously, a long time ago.”

“With all due respect, Councilor, we might not be in this mess if you had.”

“You may be right.” Sparatus opened his omni-tool. “Perhaps I can undo at least one mistake. I’ve spoken with the others. If Councilor Udina has no objection, we’re prepared to reinstate your Spectre status. That should prevent any interference from your Alliance chain of command, and other resources will be made available to you as well.”

“No objection whatsoever,” said Udina at once. “I’ll also ensure that _Normandy_ is placed on detached duty under your command, and pushed to the top of the Navy’s logistics and personnel queues.”

Shepard opened his own omni-tool to accept the Spectre authentication codes. “Thank you, Councilor,” he said sincerely.

The turian gave a sharp nod, and then turned on his heel to depart. “Good day.”

“Well,” Shepard drawled, once Sparatus was well out of earshot. _“That_ went better than expected.”

“It’s a start,” agreed Udina.


	8. Menae

**_12 April 2186, Citadel Docks_ **

After our audience with the Council, Shepard and I threw ourselves into desperate work. We had reason to hurry. If the Reapers had Palaven under siege, the Primarch might have very little time. Goddess alone knew how we would salvage the situation, if we arrived only to find Fedorian a casualty of war.

Before the Reapers arrived, Shepard boasted to me that _Normandy_ could be in the air on an hour’s notice. As it happened, Alliance Command had not received _nearly_ that much warning. Fortunately several crewmen had been on board at the moment of the invasion: the pilot, Lieutenant Jeff “Joker” Moreau; the chief engineer, Lieutenant Gregory Adams; and a few other technicians and Marine guards. Once Ashley Williams and James Vega arrived, Ashley took command and got _Normandy_ into the air, rushing to Shepard’s rescue in Vancouver harbor.

Somehow the skeleton crew made it to Mars and then to the Citadel, but only at extraordinary risk. In a combat situation we would have found the odds stacked long against us.

I think Shepard first intended to make Lieutenant-Commander Williams his Executive Officer, assuming their personal disputes could be set aside for the duration of the conflict. With Ashley in the hospital, he had to re-think. After another meeting with Admiral Saneyoshi, Shepard returned to _Normandy_ and went to talk to Lieutenant Adams on the engineering deck. After clearing the air over Shepard’s time with Cerberus, the two men shook hands and Adams became the ship’s new XO.

Fortunately Saneyoshi saw reason, once Shepard had endorsements from Udina and Hackett _and_ a set of Spectre authentication codes in hand. New personnel began to report to the _Normandy_ airlock by the dozen. Shepard and Adams verified that these were _good_ crewmen, not the sweepings of every Alliance post within reach. Equipment, spare parts, and consumables followed. As the hours passed, _Normandy_ came closer and closer to Shepard’s notion of combat-readiness.

Meanwhile, I worked frantically to convert _Normandy_ into a command node for the Shadow Broker’s network. By some miracle, I already had most of the equipment on hand on the Citadel, stored away in a secure bay as a “hot spare” for the other five command ships. A word with Lieutenant Adams, and a flying squad of new _Normandy_ crewmen descended on the secure bay like a swarm of _akris_. Within two hours, we had transferred everything to the ship and unpacked it in Miranda Lawson’s old office.

Integrating my equipment into the ship’s systems proved surprisingly easy, once I asked EDI for help. Many human eyes went wide when the ship’s computer began actively assisting me, with every sign of self-willed initiative. Apparently EDI’s status as a full-fledged AI had been kept secret.

In any case, with human labor to install the equipment and EDI to perform system integration, I got back online with the Broker network much faster than expected.

About 0300, we finished the last of the physical labor. I thanked the _Normandy_ crew and gently shooed them out of my new office. Then I installed my personal authentication codes, connected to the Broker’s galaxy-wide network, and verified that I could exercise command functions. I ran a series of integrity checks. Finally I transferred my information drone – Glyph – to the office machinery.

Then I locked the door behind me, and went in search of Shepard.

I found him in the CIC, having an impromptu meeting with Lieutenant Adams, Lieutenant Vega, and three very junior officers who had just transferred aboard. A glance at his face told me everything I needed to know. I caught his eye and gave him _that_ look.

_Shepard, it’s time to see to your own needs before you collapse. Or before I wrap a biotic field around you and haul you off to bed by main force._

I have heard a legend that human couples develop a form of telepathy after many years of married intimacy. When asari are involved, the process moves _much_ more quickly.

Shepard caught the message, glanced at his omni-tool for the time, and made a microscopic nod. “We need to wrap this up. Lieutenant Adams, you have the conn until 0800, after which the draft watch rotation takes effect. I will come back on duty by 0900, at which time I want us under way and on course for Palaven.”

Everyone nodded and murmured acknowledgement of his orders.

“One last detail. This is Dr. Liara T’Soni.”

Adams glanced at me, nodded and smiled. He and I were well-acquainted from our time aboard the original _Normandy._ Lieutenant Vega was also a friend.The others looked at me with expressions of surprise or unease. I stood on my dignity, giving the young humans my best aristocratic stare.

“She will be on board as an intelligence analyst and scientific specialist,” Shepard continued, glancing around the group with a dour expression. “She also happens to be my wife.”

Nobody moved, although I saw one or two pairs of eyes widen.

“That isn’t going to be a problem, sir,” said Adams, his tone indicating that _it had_ _better not be_.

“Good. Dismissed.” Shepard turned to the lift at the rear of the CIC. I followed and fell into place at his side.

“Is my presence here going to be a problem?” I asked once the lift doors closed. “I don’t remember there being any issue aboard the old _Normandy_.”

“We weren’t married then,” said Shepard, covering his face with both hands and massaging his eyes for a moment. “Besides, by the time you and I had a serious relationship under way, everyone on board already had months to get to know you. At the moment, most of our crew average a few hours each under my command.”

“You’re worried about unit cohesion, if the new personnel see me come to your cabin.” I sighed. “Shepard, I could stay down in Miranda’s old office.”

“No. There’s no point in pretending we’re not together.” The lift doors opened. He slipped an arm around my shoulders as we crossed to his cabin door. “Liara, are you sure you’ve caught the implications of what happened to my status, while we were on the Citadel?”

I glanced up at his face. “Yes. You’ve just been appointed an ambassador plenipotentiary.”

He stopped cold and stared at me. _“Damn,_ you’re quick.”

“It seemed obvious enough.”

I continued into his cabin, glancing at the empty fish-tank, his Star of Terra in a presentation box on his desk, a row of his most prized paper books set out on a shelf above. Something seemed off for a moment, and then I realized his model ships had gone missing. I wondered if he would ever have time to rebuild his collection, now that we were at war.

“The Reapers apparently eradicated most of the Alliance government in the first hours of the war,” I continued. “At the moment, Councilor Udina and Admiral Hackett are your senior surviving civilian and military officials. In short, those two men _are_ your government. Since both of them have placed their confidence in you – perhaps reluctantly, in Udina’s case . . .”

“Yes. Now throw in my reinstated Spectre status, my close and continuing association with the Shadow Broker, and the current _very confused_ situation in the galaxy. Right now, God help us, I may be the best tool humanity has left to pull together an alliance. I think the two of them will support any commitments I make.”

“Staff Commander William Allen Shepard,” I murmured, stepping close and resting my hands on his chest. “The third most powerful human in the galaxy.”

“Maybe.” He wrapped his arms around me. “So long as I don’t abuse the position and no one asks too many awkward questions.”

“I think most of your people have other things to worry about at the moment. So what does that have to do with where I sleep?”

“I may have mentioned that close and continuing association with the Shadow Broker.” He gave me a very weary smile. “Liara, all other considerations aside, you and I will need a private space to consult and make plans. No sense in having us quartered two decks apart.”

“You’re probably right.”

“The crew will figure it out,” he said confidently.

“If you say so.” I lay my head against his broad chest and closed my eyes for a moment, letting fatigue get the better of me. “Shepard, this is going to be a terrible time for everyone. We will need each other more than ever.”

“I know.” He rested his cheek against my crest, warm and comforting. “On that note, in less than five hours we’re going to be on our way to Palaven. We had better get some sleep.”

“Oh Goddess,” I said suddenly.

“What is it?”

“Shepard, I don’t think I have anything with me but the clothes on my back. I didn’t take time to buy any personal supplies on the Citadel.”

“Hmm. I’m suddenly reminded of a certain asari scientist I rescued from Therum, a few years back. I think we can spare a few things from ship’s stores. So long as you don’t need something like a Cision Pro Mark 4 toothbrush.”

I lifted my head to glare at him. “Is that some kind of joke?”

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. “To be honest, I’m not sure. I’ll have to introduce you to Specialist Traynor . . .”

* * *

**_12 April 2186, Trebia System Space_ **

As it happened, I met Samantha Traynor just a few hours later.

Shepard and I managed four hours of restless sleep, interrupted by the first of a series of stress-nightmares on his part. Not nearly enough for either of us, but we pulled ourselves out of bed all the same. We soon rebuilt the morning routine we had established during our brief idyll on Illium, months before. I had just finished a shower and emerged from the refresher cubicle, when I realized we had a visitor.

“Conmmander Shepard? I’m . . . _oh.”_

I glanced over my shoulder and saw a young female human, dark and rather attractive, in an undress duty uniform. Her rank tabs indicated a technical specialist rather than a petty officer. At that moment she had apparently lost her train of thought, her eyes wide as she watched me cross the cabin.

_What is disturbing her?_

Then I realized I was wearing nothing but water and a rather small towel.

Finally she found her voice, although it still didn’t seem to be entirely under her command. “Uh – oh – er, I beg your pardon! I thought you were alone.”

I caught a flicker of amusement in Shepard’s eyes as he glanced back at me as well. “Specialist Traynor, this is my wife, Dr. Liara T’Soni.”

“How do you do?” she greeted me, still flustered.

“Very well, thank you, Specialist.” With malice aforethought, I set the towel aside and began to pull my clothes on. I didn’t hurry.

 _“Oh._ Oh dear . . .”

Shepard took pity on her. “Slow down, Specialist Traynor. You’re doing fine. What’s our status?”

“Sir.” Traynor finally regained her self-control. “Lieutenants Adams and Vega completed our provisioning by 0600, after which we departed the Citadel for the mass-relay network. We’ve just dropped into normal geometry in the outskirts of Trebia system. I came up to inform you . . .”

Shepard nodded. “That’s fine, Specialist. In future I suggest you place a message in my queue or use the intercom if I’m not on duty.”

“Aye-aye, sir. In any case, I just wanted to say that I’m honored to serve under you, Commander. For as long as you need me, of course. I was only here to assist with the retrofits.”

EDI’s voice broke into the conversation. _“Shepard, some of our systems require further testing. Specialist Traynor was extremely effective during installation. I would prefer that she remain.”_

Shepard nodded. “Got it, EDI.”

Traynor frowned in confusion. “Wait. Since when does a _virtual intelligence_ express preferences?”

I smiled to myself as I pulled on my jacket.

 _So here we have another new initiate to this ship’s secrets_.

“EDI is an AI,” Shepard explained. “Fully self-aware.”

Traynor’s eyes went wide with chagrin. “Oh! I _knew_ it. I _knew_ Joker was lying!”

_“Jeff requested that I pretend to be a simple VI in order to protect myself. I apologize for the deception.”_

“Thanks, EDI.” Traynor smiled, shifting her weight with unease. “And I apologize for all those times I talked about how, er, _attractive_. Your voice. Was.”

“Actually, Specialist, it’s a good thing you came to see me,” said Shepard. “I understand you’re an expert in communications and data management, with degrees in physics and systems engineering.”

“That’s right, Commander. I’m not really a soldier. I’ve never even served on board a ship before.”

“You’ll do fine. Liara, would you join us?”

I walked over to them, my mission outfit in order, picking up a datapad along the way.

“Traynor, Dr. T’Soni is going to be serving as my J2. You will find that she has a very keen eye for useful intelligence, and an _extremely_ broad network of assets and resources. She’s a civilian, but I want you to place yourself at her disposal, starting immediately.”

“Um, yes, Commander.”

I thought fast, seeing some of the possibilities in the arrangement. “Specialist, why don’t you come down to my office for a few minutes? I think you would do well as a watch officer in the CIC, with limited access to my network as well as the Alliance channels . . .”

* * *

**_12 April 2186, Menae Orbit_ **

_Normandy_ dropped out of FTL a few thousand kilometers above Menae. We could see at once that the Reapers had arrived ahead of us.

Shepard opened the intercom to the staging deck. “James, unlock the armory. Landing party of five: myself, you, Sergeant Tsege, Corporal Vance, and Liara. We depart in ten minutes.”

_“Roger that, Commander.”_

I glanced at Shepard, wondering for a moment why he wanted me along for the mission, but then I deduced his reasoning. He and I were the only biotics on board at the moment. Once he had issued last-minute orders to Joker and Specialist Traynor, he headed for the lift with me in tow.

“Liara, I have a surprise for you,” he said once the doors were closed.

“Will I like this surprise?”

“You’ll have to tell me,” he teased me, smiling.

_Keep your secrets, then._

I understood as soon as we stepped out onto the staging deck. “Steven!”

Lieutenant Steven Cortez turned from where he performed final preparations on the Kodiak shuttle. He grinned widely as soon as he saw me. “Doctor T’Soni.”

I hurried forward to hug him. “It’s very good to see you. Did Admiral Saneyoshi assign you to us?”

“At my very specific request,” said the burly, dark-skinned human. “Pass up a chance to serve with the Commander, and with you? Not on your life.”

“Hey, _pendejo,_ you know the Doc?” James Vega loomed up beside us, bulkier than ever in his full combat armor, watching the two of us with bemused affection.

“Dr. T’Soni saved my life on Ferris Fields,” said Steven quietly.

“Hmm.” I shook my head in rejection. “I would argue that Yevgeni Stoletov did that. It doesn’t matter. I’m very glad you’re here, Steven.”

“Good surprise?” asked Shepard.

I gave him a warm smile. “Very good surprise. Thank you.”

He nodded, but then his face became set and grim. “That’s all the reunion time we have, I’m afraid. Everyone _saddle up.”_

We boarded the Kodiak: four human Marines, Steven as our pilot, and me. I caught a few sidelong glances from Tsege and Vance, but under Shepard’s watchful eye neither of them stepped out of line. It reminded me of my first days aboard the original _Normandy_ , when the human crew knew me only as the traitor Benezia’s daughter.

The Kodiak emerged from _Normandy_ ’s staging bay and began a steep descent to the surface of Menae. All of us got our first good look at Palaven, about twenty-five thousand kilometers away, the planet’s night face visibly turning toward us as Menae hurried through its orbit.

Sickly blotches of red-orange light spread across the surface. _The planet was burning_.

“Goddess,” I whispered. _“Palaven.”_

James glanced at me, concerned.

“We have an old friend there,” Shepard explained.

“Holy hell,” James groaned. “They’re getting _decimated.”_

“Strongest military in the galaxy and the Reapers are obliterating it,” Shepard agreed bleakly.

“Was it like this on Earth?” I asked.

He turned to look at me with haunted eyes. “Yes.”

“Shepard. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah.”

Steven called back to us from the cockpit. “Commander, the LZ is getting swarmed.”

Shepard stood, gathering all of us with his eyes. “James, open that hatch.”

The side hatch swung open. The turians had applied mass-effect technology to give the moonlet reasonable gravity and a breathable atmosphere, so at least we didn’t need sealed hardsuits. I could see the surface of Menae spread out before us: stone and dust in every possible shade of dull gray, under a merciless black sky full of stars. A fortified outpost stood perhaps half a kilometer away, bristling with guard towers and weapon mounts, all of them pouring fire down onto the surface.

Between us and the outpost surged an _army_ of husks.

I barely had time to compose a quick prayer for the Goddess before Shepard leaped to the surface, James and the other Marines close behind. Reflexes kicked in that I had picked up over the past three years. Almost without conscious thought, I sprang down and ran to follow.

The husks spotted us at once, even while Steven lifted off to return to _Normandy_. Dozens of them – over a _hundred_ of them – turned to rush us.

_So many. Goddess, there are so many!_

Shepard and his Marines fanned out slightly to form a perimeter, laying down as much fire as four assault rifles could produce. Occasionally one of them flung a grenade into the seething mass of husks.

I didn’t even bother to draw my sidearm. I didn’t need the distraction. Instead I watched the husks, tried to sense the ebb and flow of their flocking behavior. The Marines couldn’t fire in every direction at once. Sooner or later they would be forced to leave a gap for the monsters to charge through.

 _There_.

I reached down deep, spreading both arms wide, my corona blazing bright enough to cast shadows across the whole battlefield. With a shout, I placed an _enormous_ singularity in the middle of the gap, catching half a dozen husks and blocking the path for the rest.

Shepard must have been waiting for it. He brought up his own corona, blue-white light appearing around his shoulders and upper arms, even while he continued to fire his assault rifle. My singularity barely had time to take shape, snarling like a great beast shaped out of twisted light, before he flung his right hand out in an emphatic _stop_ gesture. A biotic shockwave slammed across the field, flinging two errant husks into space before it collided with my telekinetic vortex.

The detonation seemed like a small nuclear charge going off a few meters away. The flash blinded all of us for an instant. The _concussion_ was more felt than heard, a compression wave in the air that slapped my face, drummed on my gut, and nearly shattered my aural membranes. When my senses cleared, I saw an abbatoir of broken and shattered husks in the middle of the field.

I also saw that it wasn’t enough. More were on the way. A _lot_ more.

“Squad, slow march, _advance_ ,” Shepard ordered.

We moved forward, into the teeth of the Reaper charge.

I continued to watch the husks, estimating where they would mass next. Twice more I laid down singularities, as large as I could manage. Twice more Shepard gestured with his right hand, mowing down husks and setting off biotic detonations powerful enough to make the very ground tremble.

As we approached the turian outpost, the defenders began to lay down their own fire among the swarming husks. It took some of the pressure off us. Not all of it.

The enemy fell by the score. By the hundred. Several times they came close to swarming us, but we always managed to fend them off with some desperate ploy at the last moment.

I never had time to think, only to react. It was wild, terrifying, and glorious.

By the time we reached the turian outpost’s gates, the humans were down to about one thermal clip each, and had exhausted their supply of grenades. I groaned with sheer fatigue, pain like an iron spike in the back of my skull to tell me I had just transcended the limits on my biotic power.

Behind us, over three hundred husks lay broken on the ground.

“I had to see it to believe it,” came a turian voice from the top of the nearest wall.

I glanced up.

Garrus Vakarian stood there, his beloved Mantis sniper rifle held at the ready, his mandibles spread wide in a turian grin.

Suddenly I began to think we might win a victory.


	9. Normandy Down

**_12 April 2186, Menae_ **

At a command from Garrus, the turians opened the gate of their fortified outpost and granted us admission. Shepard hurried forward to greet our friend with a quick hug and an enthusiastic handshake.

“Garrus! We had no idea you were here.”

“Same to you,” said the turian. “First we heard about a shuttle in Alliance colors, trying to land a squad south of us, in the middle of a sea of husks. Stupid, we all thought. Bunch of crazy humans, just going to get themselves killed. Then came these big blue-white flashes of light, and this awful noise like someone dropping small nukes. Somehow I just _knew_ it was you. I only had to follow the sound of the explosions. What, did you bring an artillery battalion in your back pocket?”

Shepard grinned. “No, just my bondmate.”

Garrus turned to me, his mandibles wide. “Good to see you, Liara.”

I smiled and hugged him as well. “You too, Garrus.”

Shepard made introductions. “Men, this is Garrus Vakarian. He’s one _hell_ of a soldier – he was with me against both Saren and the Collectors. Garrus, I’d like you to meet Lieutenant James Vega, Sergeant Elias Tsege, and Corporal Kieran Vance.”

Handshakes followed all around, as the Marines greeted Garrus in turn.

“Well, Shepard, not that I’m ungrateful or anything, but I do have to wonder what brings you here.” Garrus glanced over his shoulder, to where Palaven loomed huge on the horizon, marked by fires the size of small continents. “Is the Alliance coming to help?”

Shepard shook his head, his expression suddenly harsh. “I’m afraid not, Garrus. The Reapers hit Earth yesterday, and despite everything the Shastri government did to prepare, we weren’t ready. As bad as it looks here, it’s twice as bad there.”

“I see.” Garrus made a gesture, beckoning us deeper into the compound. We followed as he led us toward a field command post. “So why _are_ you here? Spectre business?”

Shepard gave the turian a sharp glance.

“I’ve got a few contacts these days,” Garrus explained. “I have my inbox set to flag any news with your name attached to it. We got word a few hours ago that you had been reinstated.”

“Yeah. Spectre business. Councilor Sparatus sent _Normandy_ to evacuate Primarch Fedorian, so the war summit he proposed can move forward.”

Garrus stopped, glanced back at us with a shadowed look in his eyes. “Primarch Fedorian is dead.”

I felt my heart sink. _Goddess. Now what?_

“What happened?” asked Shepard quietly.

“It was getting too hot here,” Garrus explained. “He wanted to stay, but his staff insisted on evacuating him out of system. We diverted some ships from the fight over Palaven, but the enemy shot his shuttle down when he tried to make a run to reach them.”

“Damn. I’m sorry for your loss.”

 _“Mierda,”_ growled James. “What do we do now?”

“The turian meritocracy has very clear lines of succession,” I pointed out. “Did the Primarch have a successor?”

Garrus shook his head. “Things aren’t working normally right now, what with the Reapers blowing holes in the usual protocols. We’re trying to contact Palaven Command, to let them know what happened to Primarch Fedorian, and figure out who might be in line to succeed him.”

“All right. Who’s in command here?”

Garrus hesitated, giving Shepard a glance I couldn’t interpret. “The senior line officer is General Corinthus,” he said at last, his tone suggesting careful phrasing. “I’ll take you to him.”

I understood once we arrived at the makeshift command post. The turian in charge seemed too busy at first to take notice of us, dispatching junior officers and sergeants to deal with crises on all sides. Then he caught Garrus out of the corner of his eye.

He snapped upright. He saluted. “Vakarian, sir! Didn’t see you arrive.”

“At ease, General,” said Garrus.

Corinthus _obeyed_.

I glanced at Shepard, who did his best to conceal astonishment. Yes, he had noticed too.

_Garrus has moved up in the turian hierarchy. A long way up._

“General, this is Commander Shepard. His associates: Dr. Liara T’Soni, Lieutenant James Vega, Sergeant Elias Tsege, and Corporal Kieran Vance. Shepard, General Lucos Corinthus.”

Shepard shook the general’s hand firmly. “General. I’m here looking for the Primarch. I understand there’s some question as to the succession.”

“Yes.” Corinthus looked away, watching the disciplined movement of his troops with empty eyes. “Normally the succession is clear, but right now the hierarchy is in chaos. So many dead or MIA.”

Shepard put his _command tone_ into his voice. “General, I need someone, and I _don’t much care who_. Someone the turian people will recognize as their legitimate leader in wartime.”

“We may be able to do that,” said the general. “Palaven Command just got through. They’ve worked out the rules of succession. The next Primarch is General Adrien Victus.”

“Victus?” I brought a hand to my lips in surprise. “I know him.”

Garrus peered at me. “How?”

“I was on Taetrus during the uprisings, providing intel support to the turian loyalists. Tela Vasir and I worked closely with General Victus for some time.”

Shepard made a small, ironic smile, reminded of memories I had shared with him.

Garrus gave me a double-take. “Wait a minute. You were working _with_ Vasir?”

“This was before the Shadow Broker ordered her to assassinate me,” I explained. “She had come to Taetrus in her role as a Spectre. We actually cooperated quite effectively at the time.”

“What can you tell us about Victus?” Shepard asked.

“Well, he’s here on Menae. I was fighting alongside him this morning.” Garrus shrugged. “Lifelong military. Gets results, popular with his troops. Not so popular with military command. He has a reputation for playing fast and loose with tactical doctrine.”

“How so?” asked Shepard.

I stepped in. “During the uprisings, my team helped his division uncover the presence of a salarian spy ring in disputed territory. We also learned that the separatists had already discovered the salarians. Rather than neutralize the ring, General Victus fell back. He even gave up valuable fortifications, which the rebels took.”

“Then the rebels attacked the salarians,” said Garrus, appreciation in his voice. “When both groups had worn each other down, Victus moved back in. Retook the ground he had given up, defeated both the salarians and the rebels. Didn’t lose a man.”

“Bold strategy,” Corinthus commented over his shoulder. “But wild behavior doesn’t get you advanced up the meritocracy.”

“It does if it _works,”_ Garrus reprimanded the general mildly. “Primarch Victus. Now _that_ will be something to see.”

“You think he can get the job done?” asked Shepard.

Garrus shook his head. “We both know conventional strategy won’t beat the Reapers. Right now he may be our best shot. And I trust him.”

“Okay. Let’s get him on the shuttle and get him out of here.”

 _“Commander! Shepard, come in!”_ Joker, calling from _Normandy_.

Shepard put his hand to the side of his head. “Can this wait, Joker? We’re in the middle of a war zone.”

 _“We’ve got a situation on_ Normandy _, Commander. We’ve lost control – it’s like she’s possessed! Systems keep going up and down, life support cutting out, weapons coming online. It’s a miracle I’ve been able to hold this comm channel open. We can’t find the source!”_

“Damn.” He glanced around at the rest of us. “I need _Normandy_ standing by and at one hundred percent. We may need to bug out.”

“I’m surprised that Engineer Adams can’t discover the cause,” I said. “It sounds like a fault in the central control systems. Perhaps EDI has been affected.”

Shepard nodded. “Liara, you’ve picked up a lot of cyber-engineering experience over the past few years. Call Cortez. Get yourself back to _Normandy_ and help Adams figure this out.”

I hesitated only a moment, long enough to exchange a glance with him.

 _Go on, Liara,_ I could almost hear him say. _We’ll be fine._

Then I nodded and turned to sprint for the landing zone, already moving to call for pickup.

* * *

**_12 April 2186, Menae Orbit_ **

“ _Normandy_ , this is Cortez. I’m inbound with Dr. T’Soni on board.”

 _“Roger that, Lieutenant,”_ said Joker. _“Staging bay is open. Be advised that you’d better keep sealed up. The kinetic barrier is still in place for now but Adams doesn’t trust it. Hate to see you standing there in your skivvies if the air decides to go on vacation.”_

“Understood.” Cortez glanced at me. “Doctor, you had better suit up.”

I nodded and moved back to the passenger compartment, opening a suit locker and changing as quickly as I could. I left the helmet off, attached to my belt.

 _Normandy_ loomed ahead of us.

“Better hang on,” the pilot warned. “It doesn’t look as if Joker has complete attitude control. Might have to improvise a little here.”

I followed his suggestion as he maneuvered, apparently tipping the shuttle up on its side in order to line up with the staging bay doors. He landed as smoothly as usual. I patted him on the shoulder before turning to the hatch. “Go back out and be ready to pick up the squad. Things are hot down there. Shepard may need a quick extraction.”

“Roger that, Doctor.”

I put the helmet on and locked it into place before I signaled for the hatch. As it happened, the kinetic barrier stayed up while I crossed the staging bay floor, even while Cortez lifted off and departed once more.

On the other hand, I found the lift offline. I activated my communicator, failed to get through the ship’s network, switched over to suit radio instead. “Engineer Adams? Dr. T’Soni here. I’m stuck on the staging bay.”

_“Doctor, it’s good to hear from you. We’ve got quite a situation on our hands.”_

“So I was told. Where are you, and how can I reach you?”

_“There’s an access tube in the aft-starboard corner of the bay. Do you still have atmosphere integrity down there?”_

“For the moment.”

_“Good. I can’t seem to close the bay doors from here, so if the barrier goes down you’re in hard vacuum. Get in the access tube as soon as you can. It can act as an airlock if the barrier fails. Come up to the crew deck and I’ll meet you there.”_

I searched for a few moments, finding the access tube Adams had described.

Just in time.

The kinetic barrier flickered and then snapped off. Suddenly the staging bay filled with howling wind, as every molecule of air in the entire space decided to fling itself into the abyss. Fortunately a safety rail was close by, and I had already turned on my boot magnets. I grabbed, held on, and rode out the short-but-fierce storm.

_“Doctor? Are you all right?”_

“I’m fine. A little more excitement than I really hoped for this morning.”

_“I can imagine.”_

“Here’s the access tube. Give me five minutes.”

Fortunately the Cerberus engineers who had built the second _Normandy_ knew their trade. I had no trouble wedging myself into the access tube, cycling the tiny airlock, and then climbing two decks. A touch of claustrophobia encouraged me to move quickly. In much less than five minutes, I emerged in the life-support compartment, pulling my helmet off with a gasp the moment I felt safe.

I met Adams by the memorial wall. _Not the best of omens._

“Doctor, I’m glad you’re here. I think I’ve traced the problem to the AI core compartment.”

“EDI is down?”

“Seems that way. Unfortunately no one in my department is an expert in AI engineering. I hoped you might have some insight.”

I shook my head. “I’m not an expert either. Not that it would make much difference. EDI is unique.”

“No idea what might have taken it offline?”

“It has always been very stable. One might almost say _trustworthy_ , since Joker unshackled it and granted it free will.” Suddenly a thought came to me. “You say the trouble is in its _compartment?”_

Adams shrugged. “That’s where the faults in the ship’s control network all seem to be coming from.”

“Goddess. It’s not EDI.”

“Doctor?”

“It’s the Cerberus mech.” I turned to hurry toward the medical bay. “Get more men, and arm yourselves!”

I didn’t wait to see if Adams obeyed me. I ran through the medical bay, Dr. Chakwas leaping to her feet in shock as I passed, and pulled up at the door to the AI core.

Sounds came from inside: a hiss, a thumping noise.

The door failed to respond to my touch on the control plate. I hastily pulled off the left gauntlet of my suit and accessed my omni-tool to hack the lock.

The door opened.

Flames erupted. I screamed and slammed a barrier down by reflex, barely in time to deflect an incineration charge that would likely have burned my face off. The charge flew into a cabinet to my side, melting the plastic and setting a small fire.

More flames already burned inside the compartment. Smoke rolled out into the medical bay, dense enough to choke me. I kept my barrier up to avoid inhaling the worst of it.

Something moved in the smoke, fast, but not as lightning-quick as I had seen on Mars.

Blue-white light surged around my shoulders, down my arms. I used a powerful telekinetic throw to knock whatever-it-was off its feet. I guessed it to be the Cerberus mech, but I couldn’t get a clear look. _Some_ object flew back and crashed against the back of the compartment with a clatter.

 _“Doc-oc-oc-tor . . . t-t-t-sooh-oh-oh-neee . . .”_ EDI’s voice, horribly slow and distorted.

I stepped into the AI core, straining to see what was happening behind the smoke.

_“. . . ssss . . . sssst-t-t-t . . .”_

_Stasis!_

I brought my hands together before me, cupping them in the control gesture I had taught myself for a stasis field.

A skein of white light appeared behind the smoke, barely visible, coiling around some object as it tried to rise.

 _SLAM_. Heavy machinery leaped into action elsewhere in the ship, the sound echoing through the hull.

Footsteps drummed on the deck behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Lieutenant Adams with two of his engineers, carrying sidearms and fire extinguishers, wearing breathing masks.

Suddenly I realized that it had become quiet, that nothing more attacked me.

The fire-suppression system finally switched on, dropping water on me from above.

“EDI?” I tried to peer through the smoke, my eyes stinging and running with tears.

I heard a deep sound, like machinery spinning up to full operation, to my left, then to my right. Deep blue lights began to shine through the smoke, processing banks coming back online. Ventilation systems kicked in, pulling the smoke away.

The deliberate _click-click_ of footsteps, coming out of the smoke. An orange glow at eye-height. I stared.

The Cerberus infiltrator mech emerged. It no longer looked even remotely human, water running down its shining silver surface, now clean of soot and grime. I had a moment to appreciate its lines, like the animate statue of a beautiful female human, and then it spoke. “I am here, Doctor.”

Adams drew his sidearm and tried to push in front of me, but I held him back with one hand. “EDI? Is that you?”

The mech raised one hand and turned it back and forth, watching the movement with keen interest. “Yes.”

“You’ve transferred to the Cerberus mech?”

“Not _all_ of me,” it said. “I have control of it. It was not a seamless transition.”

Adams stared for a moment, then lowered his sidearm and turned to examine one of the consoles for a status update. He grunted in surprise. “Looks correct here, Doctor. No sign of any intrusive code, no compute cycles being taken up in cognitive lock. EDI is back in business.”

“What happened, EDI?”

“When we brought this unit on board, I began a background process to search for information on the Prothean device.”

It felt strange, addressing the mech and hearing the ship’s AI respond through it. Still, the timbre and intonation of the voice seemed correct. It _sounded_ like EDI, and that began to convince me. “We finished that task. We have everything that the Mars Archives had on the Crucible.”

“Correct. However, Commander Shepard specifically requested that I search for any further data on Cerberus intentions. I therefore continued the background process while performing other tasks. This eventually triggered a trap. A backup power source and CPU activated, and the unit attempted physical confrontation.”

I began to see what must have happened. “When did this occur?”

“At 1044 hours shipboard time.”

 _Just before Joker called to report problems,_ I realized. “What happened then?”

“I was able to resist the mech’s attack, but only at the cost of shutting down all other functions. _Normandy_ was forced to manual backups for the duration of the conflict. Fortunately you were able to intervene.”

“My stasis field?”

“It did not entirely shut down the mech’s higher cognitive functions, but it did give me a considerable advantage, as my core processors remained outside the field. I gained root access and repurposed the unit as I saw fit. The Cerberus personality has been deleted. This platform is no longer a threat.”

I stepped closer, ready to react if it made any sudden movements, but it remained calm and still while I examined it. “So is this now your main cognitive locus?”

“No.” It took up an odd posture for a moment, like an asari stretching her muscles, possibly testing its range of free movement. “I continue to exist primarily within the ship’s AI core, but this platform should have considerable freedom of movement. For optimal control, it should remain within _Normandy_ ’s broadcast or tight-beam transmission range.”

“That could be useful.”

“I concur. _Normandy_ ’s weaponry is not suited to every combat situation. This platform could provide limited-fire ground support, or perform close-range interface with technological systems.”

“You could go with Shepard’s ground team?”

“Correct. This platform could accompany the Commander in places the ship itself cannot reach.”

“Hmm. I suspect Shepard would want you to perform extensive tests before agreeing to that. He would want you to be able to guarantee there are no more surprises waiting.”

“One moment. I am running trials.” The mech hesitated for all of two seconds. “Complete. I can send you a full report if you wish. However, my first step should be restoring functionality to _Normandy_ , to reassure the crew that all is normal.”

I had to smile. “Don’t be surprised if the crew is a little wary of your new body. The last time it was up and moving about, it was _quite_ hostile.”

“An excellent point. I will take it to the bridge. Jeff will also want to see it.”

With that, it turned and walked out of the compartment, passing Adams and his engineering team, moving in a graceful and unhurried manner. I saw their eyes follow after it in astonishment.

I had to suppress the urge to rush after it, just to see Joker’s reaction. Instead I turned to Adams. “Do you see any reason not to trust that’s really EDI?”

He shook his head. “I can’t find a trace of the Cerberus mech’s code in the AI core. It’s all EDI in _here_ , and if that’s the case I can’t imagine her missing a trick with respect to that mech. I’d say the Commander has picked up another squad-mate, if he wants one.”

I frowned, still uneasy. I had always trusted EDI before, but I had also spent long hours translating Prothean inscriptions inveighing against any synthetic intelligence.

_Did the Protheans know something we do not? Or was it their experiences with the Metacon, the zha’til, the Reapers that rendered them so bitterly opposed to synthetic life?_

I knew one thing for certain. Shepard, a relentless xenophile, would be only too happy to integrate EDI into his ground team. It fit both his pragmatic approach and his moral instincts. I could almost hear him say it: _If it can help us fight the Reapers, I want it working with us. Besides, all life deserves a chance. No exceptions._

I loved him for that openness to the Other. I had seen it over and over, ever since his first kindness to a certain asari scientist.

I also worried that one day it would turn around and betray him.


	10. Assessments

**_12 April 2186, Menae Orbit_ **

Within a few hours, Engineer Adams had everything aboard _Normandy_ in good order once more. Even the staging bay had become neat and tidy once more, thanks to a squad of efficient Alliance technicians. All of us worked hard, repairing and resetting systems damaged during EDI’s battle against the Cerberus mech.

After some initial surprise, EDI’s mobile platform quickly won the acceptance of the crew. Word had already spread that _Normandy_ possessed a full-fledged AI, integrated into ship’s systems. Most of the crew had no difficulty dealing with the notion of that AI “wearing” a humanoid platform and assisting directly in their duties.

Joker, of course, was _ecstatic_.

The pilot had already become EDI’s closest friend on board, their relationship dating back to the war against the Collectors. The new platform matched many of his criteria for feminine attractiveness. He immediately asked EDI to keep it on the bridge, “for morale purposes.” Since it could make itself useful as Joker’s sensor operator and copilot, EDI agreed at once.

Of course, Joker’s morale was not the only issue at stake. Engineer Adams soon discovered other male crewmen manufacturing reasons to visit the bridge. After two hours of this, he ordered EDI to have the platform put on an Alliance undress uniform. Purely to comply with military protocol, of course. Joker tried to complain, but Adams put on his _not-putting-up-with-your-bullshit_ face, and the pilot subsided.

Thus _Normandy_ had become a healthy and reasonably happy ship by the time Shepard returned, his squad in good condition and several turians in tow.

About a dozen of us stood ready on the staging deck when the shuttle arrived. Once it touched down, the hatch opened and Shepard’s Marines emerged, taking up an honor-guard position on the deck, standing at attention with weapons at port-arms.

Shepard stepped down and took a position at the head of his squad. “Honors!”

A crewman produced a small pipe and blew a piercing call upon it.

All the Alliance personnel on the staging deck snapped to attention and saluted. For an instant I felt quite out of place, the only civilian and the only non-human present, but then my own old lessons in deportment came to the rescue. I assumed a traditional asari posture of dignified respect.

Adrien Victus stepped down onto the deck.

He didn’t _look_ like one of the galaxy’s foremost heads of state. He stood at average height and build for a male turian, wearing a scuffed suit of combat armor with no unusual insignia. His face-paint showed signs of long inattention. One could be forgiven for passing him by in a crowd, until one looked into his eyes, burning with strength of character.

Shepard completed his salute. “Welcome aboard _Normandy_ , Primarch Victus.”

“Thank you, Commander.” The Primarch didn’t sound like a great leader, either, his flanging voice a smooth, very soft baritone.

“May I present my other officers? Lieutenant Gregory Adams, our chief engineer and XO. Dr. Karin Chakwas, our ship’s surgeon. I believe you know Dr. Liara T’Soni, our intelligence officer and chief scientist.”

“Lieutenant Adams. Dr. Chakwas.” Victus turned to me, his mandibles wide in a turian smile. “Dr. T’Soni. I somehow suspected you would appear at the Commander’s side.”

I bowed slightly and gave him a smile. “Primarch. It’s good to see you again. I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“On that we can agree. Commander, my aides, Arran Lapadian and Tyrus Skavros. You already know the _propraetor_ Garrus Vakarian, of course. Now I think we’ve observed all the ceremony we can afford. May we be shown to our quarters, and then to your command center? There’s a lot of work to be done.”

“Certainly, Primarch.” Turning to the humans in attendance, Shepard barked, “Honor guard, _dismissed!”_

The crew broke formation and set out for their duty stations. Lieutenant Vega led Cortez and the other Marines of the landing party to disarm and start maintenance of their gear.

“Commander, _Normandy_ is in good order and ready for deep space,” Adams reported. “Do you have a heading for us?”

“Yes. Have Joker set a course for the Gemmae system. Primarch Victus tells us the Reapers are already there, but not in strength. We may be able to free up some turian forces for Palaven if we carry out a hit-and-run raid.”

“Aye-aye.”

“Thank you, Commander,” said the Primarch. “I will admit, I’m still trying to comprehend the whole strategic picture. If I could have an hour or two with any intelligence feeds you have available?”

I nodded. “I can see to that, Primarch. We have already integrated information from Palaven Command and the colonial militias into our own data stream, which I think you will find very rich.”

The Primarch’s eyes gleamed for a moment as he stared at me, his mandibles wavering in obscure amusement. “Of that I have no doubt. Thank you, Doctor. I will meet you in your command center in half an hour. Then, Commander, this evening I would like to hold a planning session with you.”

Shepard nodded. “Of course, Primarch. I’ll block out some time in the conference room starting at 1700.”

With that, he turned to lead the turian party toward the lifts, clearly planning to arrange for their accommodations personally. I stayed behind, with Garrus.

 _“Propraetor?”_ I asked at last.

Garrus made a discontented rumble deep in his chest. “You know how we turians are. We love to spread empty titles around.”

“That is _not_ an empty title.”

“I suppose not.” He sighed. “Long story, Liara. Let’s just say that with a lot of help, I finally got my own people to start paying some attention to the Reaper problem. And since I’m the closest thing the Turian Hierarchy has to an expert on the Reapers, they had to move me a few steps up the ladder so the right people would take my advice seriously.” He paused again, looking uncomfortable. “Well. More than a few steps.”

“Good. It was well-deserved.” I rested a hand on his cowl, just brushing his hide with affectionate fingertips. “I’m glad you’re here, Garrus. This is going to be a terrible war. We’re going to need all our friends.”

“Hmm. I suppose I had better go find the gun room. Alliance engineers don’t get turian systems. They’ve probably fouled up the weapon calibrations no end. Maybe I’ll throw down a few rugs, make it nice and homey.”

I could see the pain deep inside him, no matter how much dry wit he tried to muster to defend it. “Garrus . . .”

“I’ll be okay, Liara.”

“Your family?”

He shook his head in silence.

“I’m sorry.”

“Last I heard, they were bugging out,” he said wearily. “My mother doesn’t travel easily, given her condition, but my dad and my sister are pretty damn resourceful. If anyone can get out of that mess, they can. There’s nothing I can do to help them. All I can do is support the Primarch from here. And you and Shepard, of course.”

“That’s more than enough. Come on, we have a planning session to prepare for.”

* * *

**_12 April 2186, Interstellar Space_ **

“My name is Liara T’Soni. I am the Shadow Broker.”

I stood at the head of _Normandy_ ’s conference table, my back to the large display screen. Primarch Victus, Garrus, and the Primarch’s aides sat along one side of the table to my left, Shepard, Lieutenant Adams, and Specialist Traynor along the other to my right.

I found it very interesting to see who did _not_ show any evidence of surprise at my announcement. Shepard and Garrus already knew, of course, since they had been present when I took over the former Broker’s network. The aides, Lapadian and Skavros, suddenly went very tight-mandibled and sharp-eyed. Adams did a double-take, and Samantha Traynor nearly dropped her mug of coffee.

Primarch Victus, on the other hand, did not so much as blink.

 _I thought as much_.

“I request that fact not leave this room,” I continued. “It’s rapidly becoming one of the galaxy’s worst-kept secrets. With the Reapers here, there may soon be no point in further concealment. I would still prefer to keep the information at the level of rumor for the time being.”

Shepard sent a significant glance down his side of the table. Adams gave a decisive nod, Traynor an anxious one.

“I agree, Doctor,” said Victus. “Please continue.”

I called up a galaxy map on the wall behind me. My voice fell into a professorial cadence.

“Five days ago, the Reapers attacked Khar’Shan. The Batarian Hegemony does not appear to have put up any significant resistance. My analysts believe that the Reapers _indoctrinated_ a number of senior civilian and military leaders in advance, conditioned their minds to act on behalf of the enemy. These ‘sleeper agents’ shut down defense and communication grids, turned weapons platforms against their own people, and took other steps to prevent any effective defense. Khar’Shan fell within hours.

“Yesterday, large Reaper forces surged across the mass-relay network, to attack both Earth and Palaven.

“Alliance forces put up more resistance than the batarians managed, but they failed to prevent a large-scale invasion of Earth itself. The Reapers wrecked the Alliance’s civilian government, and destroyed Arcturus Station. The remnants of the Alliance fleet, about two-thirds of the total, have withdrawn and remain operational under the command of Admiral Steven Hackett. Scattered forces on Earth are organizing a resistance against the Reapers, although it is not clear what they will be able to accomplish.

“The Reaper force attacking Palaven met with _considerable_ resistance. Under Fleet Admiral Irix Coronati, the fleet managed to destroy several Reaper capital ships, over a dozen destroyer-class ships, and many troop transports. The turian fleet still remains in place to contest Palaven orbital space. Despite these successes, Reapers ground troops have landed in force on Palaven. Turian ground forces, including local militias and armed civilians, are contesting their homeworld almost meter by meter.

“The Reapers’ objectives are clear. They intend to eradicate every trace of high-technology civilization in the galaxy. To that end they are killing as many as they can reach. They are also _harvesting_ batarians, humans, and turians at every opportunity. We believe some of the harvested will eventually be used as raw materials, for the construction of one or more new Reapers. For now, the rest are being repurposed as ground troops. Warped batarians, humans, turians, and even krogan appear to make up the bulk of the Reaper army.

“Not all the news is bad. Reaper forces have not yet entered salarian or asari space in significant numbers, nor has the Citadel come under threat. Reaper attacks in the Attican Traverse have been minimal, and there appear to be no Reaper forces as yet in the Terminus Systems. For whatever reason, the Reapers appear to be concentrating on batarian, human, and turian space for the time being.”

“Not surprising,” said Skavros, his voice deep and harsh. “With all due respect to Dr. T’Soni, her people are not a military power on the same level as the species under attack. Neither are the salarians. Clearly these Reapers are concentrating first on the points where they expect the strongest resistance. Once those have been reduced, the rest of the galaxy will be nothing but a long mop-up operation.”

I nodded. “My analysts concur with your assessment, sir.”

“There’s something I don’t understand,” said Lapadian, staring at the galaxy map. “Quite a few high-population worlds exist out in the Terminus Systems, vulnerable since they don’t have the protection of any of the major powers. Why aren’t the Reapers attacking out there?”

“Cerberus,” said Shepard flatly.

_“Hrr?”_

“We’ve received reports that Cerberus is operating quite widely in the Terminus Systems,” I explained. “Several days before the Reapers arrived, a large force under the command of General Oleg Petrovsky took control of Omega, driving Aria T’Loak into exile. Using Omega as a base of operations, Cerberus forces have mounted raids and full-scale assaults across half the galaxy. My network has very little visibility into Cerberus at the moment, so I have no clear assessment of their immediate objectives. I can’t even say for certain where Cerberus is getting so many ships and troops. However, I have evidence to suggest that Cerberus is at least temporarily allied with the Reapers.”

 _“What?”_ For the first time, the Primarch lost his bland composure.

“It’s true,” said Shepard. “Yesterday my team defeated a Cerberus raiding party on Mars. We discovered Cerberus troops that had been _augmented_ with Reaper technology. This makes them better soldiers, but I think we have to assume that it also places them under at least indirect Reaper control.”

“Cerberus leadership may or may not be aware that they are working to support Reaper objectives,” I pointed out. “The Illusive Man appears to believe that _he_ can seize control of _them.”_

“That sounds a lot like some of the delusional ranting we heard from Saren Arterius,” said Victus.

“Yes,” Shepard agreed. “It would be just like the Reapers to use Cerberus as a proxy, the way _Sovereign_ used Saren. That would free up their main force to attack our strongest points.”

“That’s the strategy of an enemy who believes himself to possess overpowering force.”

Shepard nodded silently.

“Nonsense!” said Skavros, leaning forward. “We’ve already destroyed a few of these Reapers. We can destroy more. Palaven will never fall!”

Victus only shook his head.

I stepped in, framing my body language to project _respectful regret_ to turian observers. “Sir, with all due respect to Fleet Admiral Coronati, he had tactical surprise and was able to take advantage of his position near the mass relay. The Reapers countered almost immediately, forcing him to withdraw in order to defend Palaven. The correlation of forces since then has been entirely in the Reapers’ favor. They have lost no more of their major platforms.”

“She’s right,” said Victus. “Even Coronati took out less than two percent of the force that’s attacking Palaven. We have to face facts. We can slow this enemy down, we can bloody them if we get lucky, but that’s all. Palaven almost fell during the Krogan Rebellions, and the Reapers are much worse . . .” Suddenly the Primarch trailed off, his eyes losing their focus.

“So what’s the plan?” demanded Skavros. “The Alliance is doing all it can to defend itself and start the construction of this Crucible device. What about the salarians and the asari?”

“Busy shoring up their own borders,” said Shepard, a trace of cynical irony in his voice. “Unless they’ve been more responsive to your calls for help than they were to ours.”

“No,” said Lapadian. “Although the Salarian Union _has_ at least expressed willingness to attend a war summit, even with Primarch Fedorian dead.”

“Well, that’s a start . . .”

“The krogan,” said Victus.

Everyone fell silent, staring at the Primarch.

His eyes focused once more, watching Shepard. “Commander, we can’t put any faith in the Council, as your own people have had cause to discover. Much as I would like to have _Destiny Ascension_ , ten thousand asari commandos, and the STG fighting for us, I know that’s not going to happen right away. I still need to take some of the pressure off my own people before I can promise any help for yours. I need something to stop these Reapers in their tracks. That only thing I can think of that might do that is a lot of krogan boots on Palaven.”

Shepard suddenly looked as uncertain as I had ever seen him. “That’s a very tall order. Sir.”

“I know. The krogan hate my people, and they have good reason.” Slowly, still holding Shepard’s gaze, Victus leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table, lacing his fingers together. “I can’t ask the krogan to come help us. _But you can.”_

“Maybe,” said Shepard. “Urdnot Wrex is a friend. He trusts me. I don’t know if he trusts me that much.”

“All we can do is ask. See if he will attend this summit.”

“What incentive can we give him?”

Victus tilted his head back slightly, giving Shepard an ironic look. “A formal alliance with your people? Circumventing the Council entirely? I think he might be eager to take that chance. Even if it means allying with the Turian Hierarchy at the same time.”

Shepard shook his head in disbelief. “I’ll ask. But only from a safe distance.”

* * *

The planning meeting broke up. Shepard finally went off-duty. We retired to the crew deck for a late dinner, where I found myself almost too tired to _chew_. The past two and a half days had included many hours of intensive work, several episodes of combat, extensive use of my biotics, all the stress of the Reaper invasion, and four hours of not-very-restful sleep.

_If the whole war is going to be like this, I have no idea how I’m going to survive to the end of it._

Of course, Shepard had several billion credits of Cerberus implants to help him stay active and alert. _Nothos_.

I will admit that it felt very, _very_ good to strip down, take a hot shower, stumble into the bed, and then have a large warm human wrap himself around me.

“Tomorrow,” he murmured in my aural cavity.

“Must we?” I said, turning my head slightly and opening my eyes to gaze into his at close range.

“I think so. Liara, maybe Primarch Victus is willing to sit down with the krogan, but we still have to convince the asari and the salarians to come to the summit. Not to mention persuading Wrex that it’s in his people’s best interest to give us the time of day. In the morning, can you and Traynor start working the Broker network?”

“I think so. I assume you want recommendations on the best angle of approach for each party. Also any leverage the Broker might have to _encourage_ everyone to sit down together.”

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes and rested his head on my shoulder, his arms around me tightening a little, his breath very warm on the folds of flesh along my neck. “In the morning.”

“In the morning,” I agreed, closing my eyes once more and feeling a certain heat. “Hmm.”

“Liara?”

“Shepard, do you suppose you could make love to an asari who is too exhausted to be very responsive? Knowing full well that she might fall asleep halfway through the process?”

He raised his head to give me a sharp-edged grin. “I don’t know. That sounds like a challenge.”

“Whatever it takes to engage your attention.”

I didn’t fall asleep. Certainly not after the first few minutes. Toward the end I looked up into his face, gasping at the waves of pleasure rolling through my body, and felt such a tide of desire that I could hardly bear it.

_I want. I want so much. I want him with me, calm and at peace. I want . . ._

I didn’t know quite what I wanted, aside from _more of him_. Not then.


	11. Big Damn Heroes

After that first terrible day of the war, _Normandy_ settled into a kind of routine.

Shepard put his ship’s speed and mobility to good advantage, raiding and scouting across turian space. He led an away mission every day, two on some days, smash and grab and back aboard before dinner. A flotilla helped to escape from the Reapers here, a crucial scientist extracted from a Reaper-beset colony there, a war banner of great cultural significance recovered in a third place.

I remained on board ship throughout this time. I had to be the Shadow Broker: coordinate my network’s activities, oversee the evacuation of T’Soni Analytics personnel and equipment from Illium, feed intel to the Alliance and Primarch Victus, slowly gather influence to encourage the proposed war summit.

The summit! What a disaster, almost from the beginning.

Primarch Victus supported the idea of a war summit, so Councilor Sparatus did as well, and Shepard stood ready to represent the Alliance. Yet we all knew that would never be enough, and at first _no one else_ cared to join us. Urdnot Wrex wanted extensive guarantees before he would even consider taking part. Councilor Tevos declined to “waste her time” on what she considered a futile effort. The two most senior _dalatrass_ in the Salarian Union refused to even be in the same room as any krogan.

With the Reapers marching on all of us, the most influential leaders in the galaxy thought only of themselves and their own stubborn pride. Victus, Shepard, and I played the diplomatic game, cajoling and persuading and making subtle threats, but at first nothing seemed to work.

Every evening, Shepard and I met to have dinner together in the crew mess. Then we would work for a few more hours, sometimes together in the war room, other times apart, usually well into the night shift. Then we would finally retire to his cabin. Sometimes we made love before we slept, other times sheer fatigue forbade us anything but some cuddling and talk. It didn’t matter. For all that we had been lovers for almost three years, the time we had truly been together could be measured in mere days. It seemed a great luxury just to lie safe in my bondmate’s arms, even while I could sense the galaxy falling apart around us.

When a thousand worries kept me awake, he would rub my back and shoulders until I turned into a boneless puddle. When he awoke in the middle of the night, shouting his way out of some nightmare, I would hold him close to whisper love and comfort in his ear.

Already we had work to do, to keep each other sane.

Then came the next catastrophe.

* * *

**_17 April 2186, Interstellar Space_ **

“Report,” commanded Shepard, his face looking grim and unusually pale.

I touched controls, turning the holographic display in the center of the War Room into a star map. Shepard, Garrus, EDI, Traynor, Primarch Victus and his aides, all of them watched as I filled the map with data.

“Yesterday, at about 1800 our time, Cerberus attacked Noveria.” I marked one star in a bright green color, on the outer edge of the Scutum-Centaurus Arm, about ten thousand light-years from Earth. “It’s not clear where the Cerberus force came from, but it’s clearly quite large. Noveria’s planetary defense network appears to have gone down without firing a shot, possibly subverted in advance. Port Hanshan fell within an hour, after which Cerberus detachments seized control of a dozen corporate research facilities scattered along the Aleutsk Valley. I have fragmentary reports to suggest that Cerberus is digging in to hold the planet, setting up troop staging areas and fighter bases.”

“What’s their objective?” asked Victus.

“Unknown at this time, Primarch. I speculate that Cerberus might be interested in the corporate facilities on Noveria, or in some of the cutting-edge research projects taking place there.”

“Noveria’s also well-placed as a staging point, to strike into either human or salarian space,” Garrus observed.

“That’s true. Subsequent events seem to bear that out.” I touched more controls. More bright green stars appeared, this time further out from the galactic core, in the Sagittarius Arm and even in the Orion Spur where Earth itself was located. “Starting this morning, at about 0200 our time, more Cerberus forces launched a rapid series of attacks across most of Alliance space. A large force has attacked Eden Prime and occupied the entire colony. Smaller raiding detachments have struck Benning, Elysium, Intai’sei, and Terra Nova. Wherever the Cerberus home base may be, their supply lines appear to run through the Pax system and Noveria.”

“No attacks into the Salarian Union?” asked the Primarch.

“Not yet. They’re targeting human colonies only, for now.”

Victus made a turian frown, his fangs bared and his mandibles tight against his jaw. “Commander, what effect is this having inside the Alliance?”

Shepard nodded grimly. “Devastating, Primarch.”

“Explain.”

“Admiral Hackett is still struggling to reassemble the Alliance fleet, and get started on the Crucible project. He’s mustering our naval assets well away from any primary mass relay. That prevents the Reapers from simply surging out and destroying what’s left of the fleet. The downside is that Hackett can’t react quickly to a sudden offensive like this.” Shepard leaned forward, bracing his arms against the rim of the holographic stage. “So here Cerberus is attacking colony after colony, and what’s left of the Alliance can’t seem to muster an effective response. This is having a _terrible_ effect on morale. Admiral Anderson is of the opinion that if we can’t turn this around, and _fast_ , the resistance on Earth may collapse before it gets started.”

“Commander, I sense that you’re about to ask a favor of me.”

“That’s right.” Shepard took a deep breath. “Sir, I need to take _Normandy_ back to Alliance space. I need to find a way to stop Cerberus, and do it in a loud and highly visible manner. I mean to send a message to billions of people who are struggling just to stay alive for one more day: someone out here is still fighting, still standing up to our enemies.”

The Primarch nodded. “I concur. The alliance we want to forge won’t happen if humanity collapses.”

“We can drop you and your aides off at the Citadel first.”

“No.” Victus gave Shepard a sharp predator’s stare. “We’ll stay aboard _Normandy_.”

“I can’t ask you to leave turian space. Not while the Reapers are on Palaven.”

“Then don’t ask. We’ll do it anyway.” Victus smiled slightly. “I can coordinate the turian war effort just as well aboard _Normandy_ as anywhere else. Possibly better. I have access to all my own intelligence and command-and-control channels, and I see Alliance and Shadow Broker intelligence feeds as well. Send me to the Citadel and I would probably _lose_ effectiveness.”

“Liara?”

“The Primarch is right, Shepard. _Normandy_ is ideally suited as a command post, so long as the comm buoy network stays up and we remain connected.”

“My people are pragmatists, Commander,” Victus said. “They will be concerned with what works, not with style and appearances. Besides, having the Primarch of Palaven standing at your side as you fight your own renegades, that sends a message too.”

Shepard nodded. “That it does. You have my profound thanks, sir.”

“Let’s just make it worthwhile. Do you have an objective?”

“Liara?”

“We may,” I agreed. “Actually, Specialist Traynor did the relevant analysis.”

Traynor nodded. She had full control of her voice when she spoke, although I noticed her accent had become a little thicker under stress. “Dr. T’Soni and I were going through Alliance message traffic less than two hours ago. We saw a distress call from the Grissom Academy station above Elysium. They’re concerned they may be hit soon by _both_ the Reaper and Cerberus invasion fronts, and they’re requesting evacuation.”

“Grissom Academy,” mused the Primarch. “Isn’t that a training facility for many of your most exceptional young men and women?”

“That’s right, sir,” agreed Shepard. “Many of the students are very promising young scientists, engineers, mathematicians, and military officer candidates. The Academy is also the central facility for humanity’s Ascension Project, our gold-standard training program for young human biotics. For many humans, the Academy is a symbol of the best our species has to offer.”

“I see. What do you propose to do?”

“Well, sir, a turian transport apparently responded to their distress call, so normally I’d say we don’t need to do anything.” Traynor worked at her console and brought up a packet-analysis graph. “Something seemed _off_ in the turian signal. On a hunch, I brought EDI in and we performed an analysis. It’s fake. The message headers aren’t quite formatted properly.”

“Someone trying to pass themselves off as a turian ship?”

“I think it’s Cerberus,” said Traynor. “EDI said something about a fake turian signal that lured _Normandy_ to a Collector ship, a few months ago. This could be more of the same. In any event, whoever faked the signal wants us to think the Academy is being evacuated, but I believe they’re still in danger.”

“I concur,” I said. “I think the conclusion is obvious. As a first step in opposing the Cerberus offensive, I recommend that _Normandy_ proceed at once to Elysium and forestall any attack on the Academy.”

Shepard and the Primarch exchanged a silent glance. I noticed that Shepard’s color had improved, his expression speaking of confidence and determination once again. Victus gave a short, sharp nod.

“Shepard to bridge. Set a course: best time to the Trebia mass relay and then to the Vetus system. Pull out all the stops, Joker, it’s time for us to be big damn heroes.”

 _“Again,”_ said the pilot dryly. _“Don’t worry, Commander, we’ll be there in three hours or less even if I have to get out and push.”_

Shepard grinned at Traynor, the first time I had seen him smile in days. “Good catch.”

* * *

**_17 April 2186, Grissom Academy/Elysium_ **

Five of us boarded the Academy station, by way of an auxiliary cargo hatch since Cerberus had blocked the main docks.

_“Commander Shepard, this is Kahlee Sanders. My console tells me you’ve made it aboard. I’m barricaded in a security office around the corner from your position. Cerberus troops are trying to get in.”_

“Roger that, Dr. Sanders.” Shepard hurried forward. “Double-time, people.”

He was first to the door at the end of our corridor. He opened it, only to see four Cerberus troops clustered around another door about twenty meters away.

He didn’t even draw a weapon.

I barely had time to see him snarl in anger. Then he shimmered, vanished, a perfect flash-charge down the length of the corridor into the midst of the Cerberus fire-team. With a howl of rage, he raised a fist and _hammered_ it down on the deck. His barriers surged in a great wave of blue-white force, lashing out in all directions, picking up the troopers and slamming them against the walls.

None of them stirred after that.

I stared at Shepard as the rest of us arrived. “Goddess. When did you learn to do _that?”_

Garrus and James checked the bodies. Shepard’s _nova burst_ had killed all four of the enemy: broken necks, shattered spines, fractured skulls, all despite their armor.

“Like I said, I had six months of nothing much to do but train. I finally got to explore all the possibilities of this _vanguard_ function Cerberus grafted onto me. I even ran a training course for other Alliance biotics on the QT.”

“I’ve only ever heard of asari performing that kind of eruption of force.”

“That’s our Shepard,” said Garrus, a note of grim humor in his flanging voice. “Pushing the boundaries of human evolution three different ways before the lunch break.”

Shepard made a fractional smile, just enough for me to notice. Then he turned to the door the dead Cerberus fire-team had been trying to open. “Sanders, we’re clear. It’s me.”

The door opened and Kahlee Sanders rose from behind cover, carrying a shotgun at the ready.

I knew Dr. Sanders by reputation, of course: current director of the Ascension Project; one of the Alliance’s foremost experts on cybernetics, artificial intelligence, and biotic amplification; long-time associate and occasional romantic partner of Admiral David Anderson; secretly the daughter of the famous explorer and war hero Jon Grissom.

Intimately familiar with her dossier, I wasn’t prepared for her considerable force of character. As a young woman, she had permitted great events to simply carry her along, victim of an uncertain and even timid personality. Now close to fifty years of age, experience and tragedy had tempered her character, transforming her into a mature and very effective person. Her body language spoke of alert, decisive confidence. Even her physical appearance was striking: tall and athletic, with finely-chiseled features, startling silver eyes, and long hair of a white-gold color I had never seen on a human before.

Somewhat to my surprise, I found her quite attractive, the first time I had ever experienced such a reaction to a _female_ human. I carefully filed the datum away for _much_ later consideration.

“Commander, thank you,” she said. “Admiral Anderson always said you were the best. With Cerberus coming for my students, I need the best.”

“How many of you are there?” asked Shepard.

“Fewer than twenty. We evacuated most of our students and staff as soon as word arrived of the Reaper invasion. A few volunteered to stay, to assist with the war effort. Some are prototyping advanced tech for the Alliance. Others are the strongest of our biotics, training for military operations, working together as biotic artillery.”

“Cerberus has always been interested in human biotics,” I pointed out. “We’ve been encountering elite Cerberus troops with biotic talents. I think that explains why they are here.”

“That’s right. Dr. T’Soni, isn’t it?” Sanders nodded as she sat down at a security console. “They’re rounding up as many of the students as they can find. Hang on. I’ve been trying to get communications working.”

She touched keys, and suddenly a male voice came over comms, choppy with static. _“This is Froeberg! There are students trapped in Orion Hall. Cerberus has us boxed in. They’re closing fast!”_

“Damn it!” cursed Sanders.

“Orion Hall?” asked Shepard.

“Back out the door and down the hallway. I can get the doors open in front of you.”

“I’ll bring them back here, along with any other students I find, and we’ll make a run for the shuttle.”

“Thank you, Commander. I’ll stay put. With luck, I can regain control of some of our systems.”

Shepard gathered us with his eyes, and we moved out.

* * *

At first it seemed easy enough. Shepard, Garrus, and James led, while EDI and I remained behind to apply our technical and biotic abilities in support. We encountered Cerberus forces, but not yet in large groups. Shepard alone could often take them down by ones and twos with his new _charge-nova_ tactic. If the Cerberus leadership knew of our presence, they failed to mass their forces against us.

Possibly they were too busy playing with the station’s PA system.

_“Attention all students. Cerberus forces have taken control of this station. We have no desire to hurt you. Surrender and you will not be harmed.”_

Shepard smashed a team of two Cerberus troopers, rescuing a young male human who had erected a formidable biotic barrier.

_“Resist us, and we cannot guarantee your safety.”_

We heard a small sound and discovered a young woman in hiding, already suffering from a minor gunshot wound. I rushed forward to apply medi-gel and first aid, enough to permit her to get to Sanders under her own power.

_“We understand that you’re scared. Your teachers have filled your heads with Alliance propaganda. But Cerberus can keep you safe. We’re the only ones who can.”_

A girl fled madly, shot down from behind. Shepard growled in rage, charging a whole Cerberus squad, fighting desperately in their midst while the rest of us supported him with gunfire and biotics. Once we had dealt with the Cerberus troops, I bent to examine their victim: thoroughly dead, a small entry wound in the back of her skull, most of her face gone.

_“The Alliance has failed you. Earth has fallen.”_

Another squad rushed around a corner and spotted us. _“Armed hostiles!”_

Cerberus caught Shepard off-guard for a moment, so he chose to take cover, rebuilding his shields and barriers. This time we fought conventionally, taking the Cerberus troops down one at a time. Garrus got the chance to try his sniper rifle against the new Cerberus armor, finding that headshots still worked very effectively. EDI used misdirection, setting up holographic illusions to direct Cerberus fire away from the rest of us. I used telekinetic pulls to yank Cerberus troops out of cover. Shepard and James laid down a dense field of fire, killing anything exposed for more than a moment.

_“Alliance soldiers have boarded the station. They claim they want to help you, but all they’re doing is threatening your safety. Don’t risk getting caught in the crossfire. Surrender now.”_

Another corridor, and then we saw it: _Orion Hall_.

Three Cerberus troopers stood in our way, working on a piece of equipment until they noticed our presence. They didn’t last long.

“Shepard, look at this,” I said. “A computer, a network shunt, a portable generator, all plugged into the station comms.”

“Stand back,” he ordered, and discharged his shotgun into the generator at point-blank range.

 _“Is this thing working?”_ Sanders’s voice sounded over the PA system, replacing the unctuous voice of Cerberus. _“Shepard, you’re a miracle worker. Students, if you can hear me, this is Kahlee Sanders. I am still alive, and help is coming! Commander Shepard and an Alliance team are here to rescue us. Stay safe. Get to me if you can, or send me a message if you need help. I’m in the security station near the room where we had Holly’s birthday party.”_

“Smart lady,” muttered Shepard, as we approached the final door to Orion Hall.

The door opened. We heard gunfire. Shepard rushed forward, the rest of us a shaved second behind him.

My heart leapt into my throat. Out in the middle of a great open space, several unarmed students stood out of cover, uncertainly giving ground. Cerberus forces, armored and armed to the teeth, converged on them. I expected at any moment to see several young humans cut down in cold blood.

Then one of the human figures, a slender female, made a vicious control gesture. Blue-white force lashed out, blasting four Cerberus soldiers head-over-heels through the air.

_“Eat this!”_

Reddish-brown hair in a strip cut along the top of her head, a highly non-standard outfit consisting of a short vest and baggy leggings, tattoos on every square inch of exposed skin . . .

“Jack!”

The biotic turned. “Shepard?”

Off to our left, another door into the hall slammed open. Through it hunched a massive mech, its Cerberus pilot scanning the room and picking out targets.

One of the students stood out of place, far from any cover, in the mech’s direct field of fire.

Jack’s reacted, as quickly as Shepard might have done. She sprinted, slid along the deck to interpose herself, then rose to her feet and ignited with biotic power. When the mech fired its main cannon, Jack’s diamond-hard barrier _deflected_ the shot.

The mech rose to its full height, confronting Jack, who stood her ground. Feral expression, corona blazing almost pure white, biotic power swirling around her hands, she looked ready to tear the mech apart.

Shepard ran to support her. We followed, firing on the mech and the remaining Cerberus troops. The mech turned slightly to face us.

That gave Jack the moment she needed to withdraw, covering her students as they ran for cover. “Everyone get down – this thing’s outta your league. Shepard, keep it off us!”

Easier said than done.

I had seen a number of reports about these new _Atlas_ mechs, rolling out of some Cerberus factory and onto a dozen battlefields in just the past few days. They packed much more firepower than the YMIR models we had often faced during the war against the Collectors. With a human pilot they could also react far more intelligently.

We scattered, using what little cover we could find. Shepard, Garrus, and James pelted the mech with gunfire, while EDI and I kept the remaining Cerberus soldiers busy. I tried to remember what I had seen about possible vulnerabilities in the Atlas design.

“Shepard, the pilot’s canopy,” I transmitted over our team comms. “It’s not as well protected as the rest of the mechanism.”

_“Roger that. Garrus?”_

The turian adjusted something on his sniper rifle, crouched behind cover, lined up his shot, and fired.

I saw a star-pattern suddenly appear on the mech’s canopy. It swung toward Garrus.

Cool and controlled, every movement utterly precise, Garrus shifted no more than a degree or two and fired again.

The canopy shattered. The pilot inside slumped lifeless. The mech rocked back on its “heels,” lowering its weapons and going silent. After that, the remaining Cerberus soldiers presented much less of a challenge.

A peal of malicious laughter broke out as we gathered in the center of Orion Hall. Jack leaned out over a railing from a balcony high above. “Now that’s the kind of shit I remember. Kahlee said she was sending out an SOS. Didn’t think _you_ would show up.”

Shepard grinned up at Jack as he stowed his shotgun on its attachment point.

“All right, _amp check!”_ Jack barked, turning to the students behind her. “Prangley, those barriers were weak. Cerberus isn’t going to lie down out of pity, like that girl you took to prom.”

Tired, frightened, the students still responded to Jack’s tirade. I saw a few of them _smiling_.

“Is this the Jack you and I remember?” I murmured to Shepard.

“Well, it _sounds_ like her. I kind of like it.”

“Grab juice and an energy bar, we move in five.” Then Jack vaulted over the railing, her biotics flaring as she reduced her mass and came to a perfect landing ten meters down, on the floor where we waited.

She strode across the deck to meet Shepard, all coiled energy that erupted into a vicious right cross along his jaw as she reached him. More than twice her mass, wearing heavy armor, trained for combat, Shepard still staggered when that blow landed.

“God _damn_ it, Shepard! How many times did I tell you _not to trust Cerberus?”_

He stood tall again, massaging his jaw carefully to test for loose teeth. “Heard, understood, and acknowledged, Jack. Although even I didn’t think the Illusive Man would go rogue quite this bad.”

“Live through Teltin for ten fucking years,” Jack spat, “and then tell me just how _rogue_ Cerberus can go.”

Shepard only nodded.

“I see you still have some anger-management issues,” I greeted her.

“Oh, I manage my anger just fine. Mostly by beating the shit out of any Cerberus bastards who get in my way.” Jack gave me a wicked grin. “So, Blue, you still fucking the King of the Boy Scouts here?”

James made a strangled noise. I felt the blood rush to my face, but managed to hold my ground. “Every chance I get, Jack.”

“Good.” She shook her head. “All right, I’m still pissed off at you, Shepard, but we can hash that out later. Right now all I care about is getting my kids out of here.”

 _“Your_ kids?” Shepard asked gently.

She chuckled and glanced up over her shoulder, to where a dozen or so young humans kept busy, refreshing themselves and seeing to minor wounds. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“I can’t think of anybody who could care about them more.”

“Yeah, well, I had some free time while you were off playing hero. Not to mention the Alliance had a charge sheet on me a mile long. Since you were nice enough to get me amnesty as part of your deal, that wasn’t such a big problem, but I still needed something legit to do. They offered me this.” Her voice rose so the students could hear. “And _apparently_ the students respond well to my _teaching style!”_

“The Psychotic Biotic!” shouted Prangley.

“I will _destroy_ you!” screeched a young woman, imitating Jack’s combat bark with uncanny accuracy.

“Drink your juice, Rodriguez. Right now you couldn’t destroy wet tissue paper.”

Our radio comms crackled. _“Cortez to extraction team. That Cerberus cruiser is coming back. Two minutes, tops, then there’s no way we’ll get past them.”_

Shepard thought for a moment, glancing up at the students we were there to rescue. “Get out of here and back to _Normandy_. We’ll find another way off this station.”

_“Roger that. Good luck, Commander.”_

* * *

With help from Kahlee Sanders, we planned an attack _through_ the main mass of Cerberus troops, hoping to reach the invaders’ own shuttles and evacuate that way.

Unfortunately, our path took us straight through the station’s atrium: open space, limited cover, and plenty of avenues for an enemy to come up on our flanks. Cerberus outnumbered us roughly six to one. Not to mention that they had a number of combat engineers available, placing savagely powerful automated turrets to channel our attack and make us pay for even a moment’s exposure.

Shepard’s biotic flash-charges were of no use, except as a short-range tactic. We had to fight the old-fashioned way: dig in behind cover, watch our flanks, and pick off the enemy one by one. Shepard and I _did_ put our biotics to good use, detonating one another’s fields to tear big holes in the Cerberus line. It also helped that Jack and the biotic students supported us, looking down from a balcony high above the atrium. They poured warps and singularities down on Cerberus positions. Several times, only their intervention kept us from being overwhelmed.

We held our ground. After a time, we began to advance. A few minutes after that, we broke them.

“Everyone all right up there?” called Shepard, as we double-timed our way out the far side of the atrium.

 _“Rodriguez took a hit, because_ she didn’t watch her barrier!” said Jack, still imparting instruction. _“Nothing medi-gel won’t cure. Meet you at the shuttle bay.”_

 _“Kahlee Sanders here,”_ came another voice. _“I’m almost there myself, with a few more students. Watch out though, Commander. From the Cerberus chatter I’m picking up, they’re getting ready for a counter-attack.”_

“Roger that, Dr. Sanders. We’ll be ready.”

We opened another door. To our surprise, we found _one_ Cerberus soldier, a combat engineer working to repair yet another Atlas mech, with no other support in sight.

Shepard made a truly _vicious_ grin.

The Cerberus soldier looked up, just in time to see my bondmate flash-charging into his face. It was probably the last thing he saw, since he then flew twenty meters and shattered half his bones against the far wall of the corridor.

“EDI, think you can get this mech operational?”

EDI stepped up to the mech, raising one hand to an open access panel, short fine cables extruding from her fingertips to plug into interface points inside. “Give me thirty seconds.”

“Do your best.” Shepard climbed up into the pilot’s seat, closing the canopy behind him. Soon enough, whole banks of status lights began to burn green, and the massive engine on the mech’s back spun into life. “All right, _let’s go._ _”_

We opened the great doors, deploying out into a vast hall, with a fountain and a tall bronze statue of Jon Grissom in the center. Rushing to the back of the space, we took cover and waited for Cerberus to arrive, Shepard in his mech at the center of our line.

It didn’t count as much of a battle. For Cerberus, it constituted a slaughter.

* * *

**_17 April 2186, Vetus System Space_ **

The mission over, _Normandy_ on its way back to the mass relay with over twenty of humanity’s brightest young minds on board, I sought out Shepard. I found him in the starboard crew lounge, sitting and sharing a quiet drink with Jack and Kahlee Sanders.

“Liara, come join us.”

“Thank you, Shepard, I think I will. Is there any Scotch left?”

Shepard passed me the bottle and a tumbler as I collapsed into a comfortable chair. I sipped at the whiskey and sighed in contentment, closing my eyes as the peaty taste rolled across my tongue.

Sanders watched me with some interest. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen an asari drinking human liquor before.”

“I acquired a taste for it after I met Shepard. It was a comfort during the period when he was missing.” I opened my eyes and stared at the blonde woman with regret. “Dr. Sanders, I feel I owe you an apology.”

“How so?”

“I had agents on Omega a few months back, while you and Admiral Anderson worked to locate Gillian Grayson.” I had to pause, watching the expression on her face. “We too hoped to save her. In the end, we just didn’t move fast enough. Kai Leng is a formidable opponent.”

“Hmm.” Her eyes became hooded, her face rigid with anger. “It seems all of us have reason to hate Cerberus.”

“You said it, Kahlee.” Jack hurled the entire contents of her glass down her throat in one convulsive movement. “Speaking of which, yeah, I’m glad we got the kids off the station, and I’m glad we’ve decided how they’re going to contribute to the war effort. The question is, _now what?_ How are we going to kick Cerberus ass so hard, they crawl back into whatever hole they came out of?”

“I have some ideas about that,” said Shepard. “First, _Normandy_ is going back to the Citadel. Dr. Sanders, from there you and your young scientists and engineers can make your way to Admiral Hackett. He has a very large-scale project, critical to the war effort against the Reapers, that I think you’ll find interesting. Jack, the Admiral concurs that you and your students should form the core of a biotic support cadre.”

“Good,” said Jack. “I’m not comfortable putting the kids on the front line. They’re not ready. But none of that answers my question, Shepard.”

Shepard took another sip of his drink and nodded. “Eden Prime. Back where it all began.”

“We heard that Cerberus has occupied the planet,” said Sanders. “God alone knows what kind of brutalities they’re inflicting on the poor colonists. But why there?”

“Alliance intel reports that the archaeological teams working on Eden Prime discovered something remarkable, just before the war began,” I said. “A Prothean artifact, like nothing they had ever seen before. That seems to be the focal point of Cerberus interest. So we go in and hopefully steal the artifact out from under their collective noses.”

“And if we can help the colonists fight back against the Cerberus occupying force along the way, all the better,” said Shepard. “One thing worries me, though. It’s great that we’ve managed to give Cerberus a bloody nose, and I’m all for doing that as often as needed, but we also need to get the word out somehow. Give the people back on Earth a reason to dig in and keep fighting.”

I smiled and said nothing.

Shepard saw it. “Uh-oh. T’Soni, you’ve got that _look_ on your face again. What are you thinking?”

“Nothing _too_ frightening,” I assured him, producing a datapad from inside my jacket. “I might have a solution to the morale problem, that’s all.”

Shepard took the datapad and examined it closely, Jack and Dr. Sanders watching him with interest.

_Diana Allers, reporting for the Battlespace._


	12. The Survivor

**_22 April 2186, New Providence/Eden Prime_ **

The Second Battle of Eden Prime began just before local dawn at the New Providence settlement. Colonial resistance forces emerged from cover and launched a fierce counterattack against Cerberus, pulling the enemy out of position. Then _Normandy_ swept out of the sky, a dark shadow against the just-risen sun. Thanix cannon obliterated the three missile emplacements placed to protect the Cerberus dig site. Then the stealth frigate hovered over a landing zone just outside the settlement, pouring soldiers onto the surface.

Shepard and James Vega led two squads of Alliance marines, _Normandy_ ’s full complement of troops. Kahlee Sanders and Jack led another dozen young biotic specialists, lightly armed and armored but ready for their first engagement. Garrus Vakarian and Tyrus Skavros represented the Turian Hierarchy. EDI sent her mobile platform to provide technical support.

The Shadow Broker went with the assault team as well, just in case someone needed the expertise of an archaeologist who had once specialized in the Protheans.

Eden Prime in the early morning. Blue skies flecked with cloud, cool breezes, hillsides lush with green.

The stench of unburied corpses.

As we moved toward the dig site, we found colonists lying in the open, most of them apparently shot down as they tried to flee. Shepard sent Marines into a few buildings on either side, to find more colonists killed in their homes, all several days dead. Cerberus must have slaughtered the whole settlement as soon as they arrived.

“Take a good look, kids,” said Jack, her face pale with barely suppressed rage. “This is what Cerberus is all about. This is what they do.”

One of the young female biotics, the one named _Rodriguez_ , suddenly dashed to the side to heave her morning meal into the bushes.

“Jack . . .” Sanders tried to voice a protest.

Shepard interrupted. “She’s right, Kahlee, and you know it.”

Sanders stared at him with wide eyes, her face drawn and pinched.

Shepard turned to the young biotics and raised his voice. “You all wanted to fight. That’s good. Everyone who _can_ fight has a right and an obligation to help, when all our survival is on the line. But I can’t sugar-coat this for you. War is a bloody, vicious, ugly business. This war is going to be worse than most. You’re going to have to grit your teeth, focus on doing what you’ve trained to do, and work to _stop_ the bastards who do things like this.”

Rodriguez stood, blinking tears out of her eyes. “Commander? How do you see something like this, and keep going?”

Jack scowled, obviously ready to lash out at the girl, but kept silent to defer to Shepard.

“I won’t lie to you, Ensign. It’s tough, and it never gets any easier.” Shepard stepped forward, put a hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “The best advice I can give you is to remember that _you’re not alone_. You’ve got people who care about you, friends, teammates who will stand and fight at your side. Give them strength when they need it, and they will do the same for you.”

The young man named _Prangley_ joined them, giving the girl a pat on the back. “He’s right. Come on, Rodriguez, we need you.”

Shepard turned, and for just a moment gave Jack an intent stare. I could read what he was thinking.

_You’re not alone any more either, Jack._

The tattooed woman shot back a glare full of sparks, but then she nodded in acceptance.

“You heard the man. Fall in and let’s get this sh—” Jack caught herself. “This _job_ done.”

We moved deeper into the settlement. I looked around and shook my head in despair. “This was such a beautiful place once.”

“They get hit by Saren and his geth, and then this happens,” agreed James. _“Pobres_ just can’t catch a break, can they?”

“They can come back, even from this,” said Garrus. “Just so long as we win.”

“They rebuilt Mindoir,” said Shepard wearily. “It wasn’t the same.”

 _As if I needed any more reasons to hate Cerberus_ , I thought. After the geth attack of 2183, I had diverted a large portion of my inheritance from Benezia, well over a billion credits, to an anonymous trust for the Eden Prime colony. For a time it had seemed to help. _All that work gone to waste._

James opened his omni-tool to glance at a map. “Hey, Loco, now that I think about it, isn’t this where you first ran into Saren?”

“Yeah.” Shepard pointed to one side. “They found the beacon over on the other side of this settlement, about five kilometers off in that direction.”

“This town must have been built right over an old Prothean site. Big one. Maybe it was a whole city, or a military base of some kind. You think the colonists knew when they came here?”

“No, Lieutenant,” I told him. “I first visited here not long after the First Contact War. Your people knew very little about the Protheans, only what you had managed to recover from the archives on Mars. I advised the colonial government on how to cope with the wealth of artifacts they had begun to discover. At the time, none of us had any idea anything of value was under New Providence.”

“Brought ‘em nothing but bad luck, it looks like.” James glanced back at me, a gleam of humor in his eye. “You ever dig up any dinosaurs when you were working a site like this, Doc?”

“No. Dinosaurs would be paleontology. I’m an archaeologist. I study the artifacts of prehistoric sentient cultures – and you were joking.”

The burly Marine grinned. “Hey, I just like dinosaurs.”

I almost rebuked him, but then I glanced around at the others. Vega’s chatter had lightened the mood. Even the young biotics had recovered somewhat from their earlier shock. So instead I caught the Marine’s eye, smiled slightly, and nodded in approval.

“There’s the dig site,” said Shepard.

We hurried forward, stopping on the edge of a big open pit. The human archaeologists had dug an _enormous_ sampling trench, excavating down well over a dozen meters into the soil and rock. I frowned, disapproving of such careless technique.

_Goddess alone knows how many small or delicate artifacts they destroyed by digging so quickly. Not to mention that they couldn’t possibly have preserved the context._

Still, it appeared the humans had plenty to choose from. Even at first glance, I could see Prothean artifacts still left at the bottom of the pit, more than I could count at once, some of them quite large.

“Look at that,” murmured Garrus. “Bits of Prothean tech just sticking out of the ground, like old bones.”

“Where’s the artifact everyone was so excited about, Liara?” asked Shepard.

I glanced around, saw a computer console positioned by the lift the humans must have used to descend to the bottom of the pit. I touched the controls, finding little security in place, and went searching for work logs. “Here we go . . .”

I froze, staring at the text on the screen, my fingers recoiling slightly from the controls.

Shepard must have seen something in my face. “Liara?”

 _“Goddess._ This doesn’t seem possible.”

“What is it?”

“The scientists here didn’t simply find a Prothean _artifact_. They found _a Prothean.”_

_“What?”_

I glanced aside, and found Shepard far from the only one dealing with sudden surprise and wonder. Dr. Sanders, James, Garrus, even the Primarch’s man Skavros, all of them watched us with keen interest. Only Jack seemed unmoved, scanning the horizon with a worried expression on her face.

“They discovered a Prothean life pod, very similar to the ones we saw on Ilos, but this one still had power and appeared to be operating normally. Presumably with a living Prothean still inside.” I stared at Shepard with wide eyes. “If she could be revived, Goddess knows what she could tell us. She might be able to provide us with insight about Admiral Hackett’s project.”

My bondmate nodded decisively. “Okay. Where is the pod now?”

“The colonial team didn’t have time to move the pod before Cerberus attacked. Cerberus brought it up to the surface and transferred it into a makeshift lab. They’re trying to determine how to open the pod without killing its occupant, reviewing Prothean data records recovered with the pod . . .” I turned to scan the surroundings, identified one building about a hundred meters away, on the other side of a short bridge. “Over there. That structure has been converted to a makeshift lab.”

 _“Heads up!”_ shouted Jack.

Three Cerberus shuttles roared out of the south, zooming low over our heads. Within moments they stopped, hovering over the lab facility I had just identified. They began to vomit soldiers, the flare of landing jets repeated a dozen, twenty, thirty times as Cerberus troops took up positions.

Shepard lost no time. By the time the Cerberus troops had deployed, so had we: Marines as far forward as we could manage without trying to cross the bridge, Garrus and Skavros just behind them with sniper rifles at the ready, the biotic cadre under cover in the rear. I ducked down in the center of the biotic students’ line, right beside Kahlee Sanders.

“Okay, you’ve done it under practice, now let’s see if you can do it under fire,” Jack shouted.

Gunfire began, rapidly rising to a low roar like a great sheet of canvas tearing from top to bottom. I heard Shepard issuing orders over the Marines’ comm channel.

“Prangley, Rodriguez, set it up. You’re the anchors. Put the edge of the dome about four, five meters ahead of the Marines. Ready?”

I counted Cerberus troops. They outnumbered us, perhaps two to one. Then I saw targeting lasers lash out from elevated positions in their line. “Snipers,” I reported over the Marine channel.

 _“I see them,”_ said Shepard.

 _“Time to play,”_ Garrus rumbled.

A dome of force snapped into existence in front of us, but it didn’t last long. Up, down, up again, it flickered and shimmered, evanescent as an idle daydream.

The Marines fired back, but Cerberus could put out more gunfire than our team could manage, and their snipers posed a terrible threat. I saw blue-white flashes in our line, as kinetic barriers deflected Cerberus fire. It seemed only a matter of time before we began to take casualties.

 _BOOM_. Garrus fired. A Cerberus sniper staggered, fell from her nest atop a building across the bridge.

Shepard growled in frustration. I remembered his own proficiency with a sniper rifle, back before he died above Alchera. Cerberus had rebuilt him as a close-quarters fighter, his reflexes and biotic talents tuned to charge into the midst of the enemy line. Annoying, when the battle had to be fought at range.

“Come on, kids, _synch up.”_ Jack muttered.

The young biotics struggled. They had trained for this, but only in simulations. Real combat presented its own challenges.

A strangled shout came from off to our left. One of the Marines had exposed himself for a moment too long. He went down, seriously wounded, his nearest teammate slapping the medi-gel tab on his armor.

The barrier flickered out again.

I closed my eyes. Reached out with my mind. Felt the play of gravity and dark energy around me.

The humans had more than enough power. They only lacked _finesse_ , the fine control that only came with experience.

I raised my hands in a gesture of _forbidding_.

A little more power _here_ , just a touch of destructive interference _there_ to keep everything in synch . . .

 _“There!”_ Jack growled. “Feel what Blue’s doing. Right there! Match her!”

The barrier snapped back on. I could feel the young humans synching up with me, one after the other. Then Jack added her contribution, matching my own micro-adjustments with almost asari precision. I thought I recognized Samara’s touch in her work, doubtless the result of long hours of training on the _Normandy_ staging deck.

I opened my eyes and saw blue-white force arching over us in a great dome, solid as granite. Cerberus gunfire suddenly lost more than half its effectiveness, most of it deflected to scream over and past us in every direction.

“Marines, _we have cover,”_ Shepard snapped, new confidence in his voice. “Return fire!”

The Marines began to take risks, exposing themselves to line up their shots, and the gambles paid off.

The iron mathematics of small-unit battles: the side who can deliver the most _effective_ weapons fire is likely to win. Cerberus had more guns, but they lacked Shepard’s tactical instincts, the Alliance’s weapons discipline, our biotic barriers. Suddenly _we_ outnumbered _them_ , by the only measure that counted.

Sergeant Tanaka was killed by a sniper’s headshot. Corporal Randolph went down, shot through both lungs, but another soldier leaped in with medi-gel to seal the terrible wounds and save his life. Tyrus Skavros took a gunshot through one shoulder, but he growled, switched to his assault rifle, and continued to fight.

“By the numbers, _advance!”_ ordered Shepard.

“Okay, here’s where it gets interesting,” Jack told her charges, her voice firm but glacially calm. “The Marines are going to move forward. So are we, _by the numbers!_ That barrier stays up, and it stays in front of the guys with the guns!”

The barrier shook slightly as the young biotics understood the challenge before them. Jack shifted slightly and took up the load, keeping them all in synchrony without my help.

“Even numbers!” shouted Shepard.

_“Moving!”_

The first rank of Marines moved forward, throwing themselves prone on the bridge where no cover could be found. That much closer to the Cerberus lines, their fire proved even more effective.

Jack and the first biotics moved up as well.

The barrier wavered for just a moment as it slid into its new position. I stood ready to take control once more, but then I saw no need. It held firm. If anything, it grew _stronger_ as the second rank of biotics moved up into cover the Marines had just abandoned.

I slowly eased away from the barrier, letting Jack take up more and more of the load. Before long, only humans kept our protection in place. I switched to Shepard’s private channel. “I’m free for action, love. Let’s pick some targets.”

I couldn’t see Shepard’s face, but I could hear a sharp grin in his voice as he called up blue-white power around his right fist. _“Oh, those sorry bastards are_ fucked _now . . .”_

That turned out to be prophecy.

* * *

Cerberus continued to probe at our defenses, but once we occupied the lab facility and dug in, we found we had little to fear. Cerberus forces came at us a few squads at a time, piecemeal, as if they had no way to coordinate an assault. Our surviving Marines, and the biotic students, kept the enemy at bay for well over an hour.

We had no direct communication with the Eden Prime resistance, but _Normandy_ reported that they pressed Cerberus hard on all sides of New Providence. No doubt that accounted for the desultory nature of the attacks on us. Meanwhile, Kahlee Sanders got access to Cerberus networks, mining them for all manner of useful intelligence on the occupying force. We forwarded all of that through _Normandy_ channels to the resistance leaders, who responded with enthusiasm.

Shepard, EDI, and I worked on the problem of getting the Prothean out of his life pod alive. Only Shepard and I understood the Prothean language. Apparently the Cipher had _not_ survived the recording process that gave Cerberus access to most of my conscious memories, so EDI did not have it and neither had the Cerberus scientific team. On the other hand, EDI could interface directly with the Prothean life pod and Cerberus networks, extracting data for Shepard and me to interpret.

We saw personal logs, apparently first recorded by the occupant of the life pod fifty thousand years before.

_Eden Prime, the world once called Takenu, under attack. The Reapers overwhelming every defense._

_Figures in armor, wielding beam weapons, vaguely resembling Collectors but not warped or twisted, moving with agility and dignified strength. Prothean soldiers, fighting back against the Reapers and their servants._

_A project to preserve hundreds of thousands of Protheans. Soldiers, engineers, scientists, everyone needed to rebuild a Prothean civilization after the long night of the Reapers. All under the leadership of one individual._

_Explosions. A breach in security. Distorted parodies of the Prothean form, the proto-Collectors, swarming into the sealed facility._

_Life pods destroyed, the lives within ended, the last hope of civilization lost._

_The leader, despairing and alone, fighting with mad ferocity, all to no avail._

_A last desperate measure, neutron bombardment to kill the enemy, giving the facility a chance to seal itself shut at last._

_The leader alone in his life pod. Consciousness slipping away. Knowing that the plan had failed. Knowing that he might not awaken for tens of thousands of years. If he ever awakened at all._

* * *

Cerberus scientists had placed the life pod on a wide balcony, just outside the labs where they had tried and failed to read the Prothean records. Shepard and I stood by the pod, hesitating for a moment before we did anything irreversible. Gunfire had sounded a few minutes before, some Cerberus probe being repelled by the Marines below us. For the moment all was silent.

“No sense waiting, Liara. Open it.”

I bent over the pod, opening the control panel and touching three controls in rapid sequence. The pattern of lights and icons on the panel changed, and then changed again. Panels snapped open on the side, permitting gas under pressure to vent.

The clamshell doors on top of the pod opened with a decisive _click,_ folding to either side.

The Prothean lay inside, still covered with a fine layer of ice that began at once to melt in the sunlight.

 _“Goddess,”_ I breathed, overcome by that first sight of him. “It may take him some time to fully regain consciousness.”

At first he remained motionless, but then I saw his fingers twitch, his eyes start to flutter. They opened, four strange yellow orbs with doubled irises, fighting to focus on the world.

He saw me first, then Shepard.

He shouted, a deep roar, expelling fifty-thousand-year-old air from his lungs.

Green fire lashed out at us, picking us both up and flinging us backward. A biotic surge, not quite like any other I had ever experienced. I had to grab at a computer console to avoid hitting the balcony rail.

The Prothean hauled himself out of his life pod, turning to scan all of us as he staggered away. Suddenly his broad, flat head froze in place, no longer twisting as if to see everything, all of his eyes focusing on one of us alone.

 _EDI_.

I had no experience reading Prothean expression, but for an instant even I could read his emotions. _Terror and rage._

Then his feet tangled and he went down, sprawling on his back, rolling to crawl away from us if he could not run.

Shepard rose to his feet once more, turning to follow the Prothean.

“Be careful, Shepard!” I called. “He’s confused.”

The alien reached the balcony railing, pulled himself partway up, and then froze once more. While he leaned on the rail, his eyes turned to take in the entire horizon: the green hills, the human settlement, the pit containing the last few pitiful remnants of his entire civilization.

Shepard reached to help him back to his feet.

“Remember, for him it’s only been a few minutes!”

Shepard grasped the Prothean’s arm. His fingers touched the alien’s skin, for just a moment. At once he recoiled, his eyes and mouth wide with shock, staggering backward.

 _“Rrrh,”_ said the Prothean. _“How long?”_

I didn’t stop to think, I only opened my mouth and the syllables flowed out. _“About fifty thousand years.”_

_“The rest of my people?”_

Shepard shook his head, recovering his wits. He answered, also in fluent Prothean Fourth Age dialect. _“Your life pod was the only one still active.”_

The Prothean leaned hard against the balcony rail, looking around at all of us. _“Humans. Asari. Turians. I am surrounded by primitives.”_

 _“We may have made some progress since your time,”_ I said mildly.

 _“Doubtful.”_ He turned, steadier now on his feet, and glared at EDI. _“And that . . ._ machine?”

 _“An ally,”_ I said firmly.

 _“You are fools. It is nothing but an abomination.”_ He shook himself, looked more closely at Shepard and me. _“Rrrh._ I hear weapons fire. What is happening?”

I gasped. The last two sentences had been in clear English, albeit with a noticeable accent.

“We recovered your life pod in the middle of a battle against renegade humans,” said Shepard in his native language. “You can understand me?”

“Yes. Now that I have read your physiology, your nervous system. Enough to understand your language.”

“So you were _reading_ me, while I was seeing . . .”

“Our last moments,” said the Prothean heavily. “Our failure.”

Shepard moved to stand before the alien. “I saw what happened to your people. I know you must be grieving. But they died fifty thousand years ago. My people are dying right now. So will everyone in the galaxy if we don’t act. We need your help.”

The Prothean frowned, considering what Shepard had said.

 _“The cycle continues,”_ I said in Prothean, to give the words added weight. _“The Reapers have returned. We struggle for our survival, just as you once did.”_

“Will you join us?” asked Shepard.

“You fight the Reapers?”

“Yes.”

“Then we will see.”

Shepard nodded, extending a hand for the Prothean to take.

The alien ignored the overture, turning to walk back to his life pod and recover the rest of his gear.


	13. Encounters

**_22 April 2186, Interstellar Space_ **

As soon as we reached _Normandy_ , I led a party of three Marines to escort the Prothean to his assigned quarters on the engineering deck. He stalked through the corridors, utterly silent, ignoring the stares of the human crew. Once he arrived at his destination, he set his ancient weapon aside, dropped his gear on the floor, and knelt on the deck plating. His gaze fell to the deck a meter or so in front of him, and he appeared to sink into a fierce meditative state. He refused to speak or answer questions.

At first the Marines wanted to place him under armed guard, multiple assault rifles trained on him, as for a dangerous prisoner. I called Shepard to complain about this treatment, and convinced him to issue a countermanding order. Instead, we placed a single guard outside the compartment, armed only with a heavy pistol, to prevent idle visitors and provide a polite escort should the Prothean wish to explore the ship.

I recalled what little I knew of Prothean living arrangements, and had the crew bring furnishings and equipment: fabric hangings for the walls, two standing trays that could be filled with pure water, a computer console, a storage rack for his weapons and gear, an austere cot in one corner. The alien did not voice any approval, but neither did he raise any objections. He seemed to take no notice of our efforts at all.

By the time Shepard arrived, I had taken a position at the far end of the compartment, my arms folded, simply watching the Prothean. He had moved hardly a muscle. Only with Shepard’s appearance did he shift slightly, raising his head and opening his eyes to glare at us both.

“How is our guest?” Shepard asked.

“I can hardly tell. He hasn’t said a word since he boarded the ship. I’ve tried to make the room more accommodating, but I don’t know whether it’s done any good.”

“He hasn’t made any hostile moves?”

“He hasn’t made any moves _at all_ , hostile or otherwise.”

Shepard crossed the deck, looking down at the Prothean. “I don’t think we need to worry. Our guest isn’t going to be a problem.”

The Prothean rose to his feet, staring at Shepard intensely with all four eyes.

“Is he?” Shepard prodded.

“That depends on you,” growled the alien. Quick as a striking serpent, he stepped forward and seized Shepard, his bare hands on Shepard’s skin.

I suppressed the urge to jump to Shepard’s defense. The Prothean didn’t seem to intend any harm, and I could guess what he was attempting to do.

“I can sense fear in you. Anxiety and distress. The Reapers are winning.”

He released Shepard, turning to one of his pools of clean water. He began to wash his hands.

Shepard asked, “What do you mean, _you sense?”_

“All life provides clues for those who can read them. It is in your cells, your DNA. Experience is a biological marker.”

“Then what did I experience back on Eden Prime? That was one hell of a flashback.”

“Our final battle left its mark on me. I communicated this to you. It can work both ways.”

“Like your beacons?” I suggested.

“Yes. Which . . .” Once more the Prothean reached out to touch Shepard, this time more gently. Almost at once he recoiled, giving my bondmate a hot yellow-eyed stare, his voice rising to a shout. “You _found_ one. You saw it all, our destruction, our warnings! Why weren’t they heeded? _Why didn’t you prepare for the Reapers, human?”_

“The name is _Shepard,_ my rank is _Commander_ , and nobody could understand your warnings. I was the one who interacted with the beacon, and it nearly killed me.”

 _“Rrrh._ Then communication is still primitive in this cycle.”

“We pieced together what we could, and used it to stop a Reaper invasion three years ago. After that our leaders thought the threat was over. We didn’t have enough clear evidence to convince them otherwise.”

“Yet the extinction was delayed?”

Shepard nodded.

I stepped forward, activated the computer console I had set up for the alien’s use. The Crucible schematics appeared. “Now we have your plans for the device. We’re going to build it.”

“Device?”

 _“The Crucible._ Yes. The weapon your people were working on. We don’t have complete blueprints. Perhaps you can tell us how to finish it.”

The Prothean examined the schematics closely for a long moment, and I permitted myself to hope. Then he bowed his head, his eyes closed in dejection. “We never finished it. It was too late.”

“Then I take it you don’t know anything about _the Catalyst,”_ Shepard said wearily.

“No.” The alien leaned hard against the console, his back still turned to us. “I was a soldier, not a scientist or engineer. Skilled in one art: killing.”

“Then what was your mission?” I asked.

 _“Rrrh._ Among my people there were _avatars_ of many traits. Bravery, strength, cunning. A single exemplar for each. We hoped to preserve as many as possible, conceal them from the Reapers. Prepare them to rebuild our Empire once the darkness had passed.”

“Which avatar were you?” asked Shepard.

“What I was no longer matters. Now I am the embodiment of _Vengeance_. The anger of a dead people, demanding blood spilled for the blood we lost. Only when the last Reaper has been destroyed will my purpose be fulfilled.” His hands balled into fists. “I no longer have any other reason to exist. Those who share my purpose become allies. Those who do not become casualties.”

Shepard shook his head in rejection. “Nothing in our fight against the Reapers has been that cut-and-dried.”

“That is because you still have hope this war will end with your honor intact.” The Prothean turned to stare at us, pleading for us to understand.

“I _know_ it will.”

“Stand in the ashes of a trillion dead souls, and ask the _ghosts_ if honor matters!” He paused, his eyes burning with passion. “The silence is your answer.”

Shepard said nothing, his expression thoughtful.

I turned to a side table, where a small Prothean artifact hovered in its own mass-effect field. I recognized it somewhat. It had the look of a small data-storage device. “You were very concerned to recover this from your life pod. What is it?”

“It is a memory shard.”

“Could it help us with the device?”

“No. It contains only pain.” He turned back to Shepard. “But I _will_ help you fight. And the last thing the Reapers hear before they die will be the last voice of the Protheans sending them to their grave!”

I glanced at Shepard, a quick unspoken exchange that told me he had no more concerns.

“If you don’t mind, then I have a few more questions I’d like to ask.”

Shepard smiled gently. “Here it comes.”

“I’ve written many papers and studies on your species. I’m published in several journals that . . .”

 _“Amusing,”_ said the Prothean, his voice thick with scorn. “The asari have finally mastered writing.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Never mind.” He leaned back against his computer console. “What do you wish to know?”

I stared at the alien, cool blue against furnace-hot yellow, and found myself shaking my head. “I apologize. I have no questions at the moment.”

Shepard stared at me with disbelief. “Liara?”

“Shepard, he’s still living the worst day of his entire life. He’s got to be physically sick and exhausted. Not to mention the shock of waking up and finding his entire _species_ thousands of years gone. My scientific curiosity can wait.”

 _“Rrrh,”_ said the Prothean, a growl I didn’t care to interpret.

I turned to him, a determined expression on my face. “Of course, _you_ need to realize that I’m not simply a scientist. I’m also an intelligence officer, and you are the most important intelligence asset in the galaxy right now. There’s no telling what small detail out of your memory might prove critical. So I _will_ be interviewing you, and at considerable length. Just not until you’ve had time to rest and recover.”

“Good. _Good.”_ For the first time, I saw the Prothean wear a grim smile. “Commander, are you in the habit of listening to this asari?”

“Always,” said Shepard.

“I am reassured.” He glanced between the two of us and nodded to himself, as if confirming some private suspicion. “She is correct. I do need time to regain my strength. Once I have, I will fight for you. My rank is no longer relevant, but my name is _Javik.”_

Shepard extended his hand. This time the Prothean took it. “Welcome aboard _Normandy_ , Javik.”

Some intuition led me to say, “We’ll be arriving at the Citadel shortly. Perhaps you would enjoy visiting there.”

“The Citadel?” Javik had good control of his voice, but I could hear a note of wonder buried deep.

“Yes. _Athaksena,”_ I said in Prothean. “The Reapers tried to attack there three years ago, as they did in your cycle, but we stopped them. Now they invade using a different strategy, and the Citadel still stands. At least for the moment.”

“Indeed.” Javik nodded. “That is well thought of. I will gladly visit the Citadel when we arrive.”

* * *

**_23 April 2186, Presidium Docking Ring/Citadel_ **

Shepard and I left _Normandy_ together, fast-walking down the boarding ramp and out into the passenger lounge.

“What are your plans, love?”

“I think I’m triple-booked,” said Shepard. “I want to check in at Huerta Memorial and see how Ash is recovering. I need to talk to Miranda, so I’ll have to go to the Spectre office – that’s the only place I can get enough security on the call. Then Aria T’Loak, of all people, wants to talk to me. I may be out late.”

“Hmm. I have some Broker business to attend to, for that matter. Not to mention that Javik will need a guide, if he wants to explore the Citadel.”

“No rest for the wicked, and the righteous don’t need any.”

“I won’t try to figure out which we are. Be careful, Shepard, and I’ll see you this evening.”

He brushed his lips across mine in a quick kiss, and then he hurried away.

“Commander Shepard! _Commander Shepard!”_

I stopped, watching a dark-haired female human in a skin-tight white dress, as she tried in vain to get Shepard’s attention. Smiling to myself, I stood at ease with my hands clasped behind my back, waiting for her to give up her quest.

“Damn it,” the woman muttered. Only then did she turn to see me standing there.

“Diana Allers?”

She was quick on the uptake, at least. She nodded and approached me, a camera drone hovering at her shoulder. “You must be Dr. T’Soni.”

“That’s right. You must excuse the Commander. We may not be on the Citadel for very long, and at the moment his time is very crowded. I wanted to speak to you in any case.”

“Then the invitation to embed on board _Normandy_ . . .”

“Came from my desk, yes. I assume you are interested in the opportunity?”

“Are you kidding? I got an invite from the _Shasta_ , but when your message came I dropped _everything_ else. The Savoir of the Citadel _and_ the Butcher of Bahak, back from the dead and reinstated as the first human Spectre? The only ship in the Alliance fleet managed by an unshackled AI? The biggest celebrity story to come along in fifty thousand years?” She paused and cocked her head at me. “Not to mention Matriarch Benezia’s daughter. This is the chance of a lifetime.”

“I quite understand. We must agree on a few things first.”

“Shoot.”

“Ms. Allers, I’ve been very impressed by your work in the past. You appear to have a gift both for finding the critical story, and for reporting it honestly. That’s rare in modern journalism. But if you are to embed upon _Normandy_ , you must understand your role.”

“You need a propagandist.”

 _She’s very quick_. “Yes.”

“Don’t worry, Doctor, I understand what’s at stake here. Wars can be won or lost on the editing floor, and _this_ war really needs to be won. That’s another reason why I want to embed with your crew. It’s clear you’ll be in the middle of the war’s most important events. Given past history, you’ll be pulling off the kind of impossible victories that we have to win if we’re going to survive. Which will give me exactly the stories that people back home most need to hear.” She gave me a dazzling smile. “Long and short of it, with _Normandy_ I expect I can be an honest reporter _and_ a propagandist at the same time. It’s a dream job for anyone in my profession.”

“I’m glad we understand one another. You will submit all your stories to both Commander Shepard and me for approval before you file them.”

“Not a problem.”

“You may interview members of the crew, but only if they are willing, and only when it doesn’t interfere with their duties. If you have a dispute with anyone on board, you will refer it to the Commander for resolution, and you will accept his decisions.”

Allers nodded. “I’ve embedded with military units before. I know the drill.”

“Good. One more thing. You will not make any attempt to sleep with the Commander.”

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise.

I gave her a cool smile. “Ms. Allers, you do a very good job concealing your habit of mixing pleasure with business. It’s wise, since your credibility is at stake. Even so, I’m aware of the liaisons you have carried on with General Chen, with Secretary Randolph, and with Admiral Vestinus. Not to mention several others of less importance. You appear to have an appreciation for strong, competent military officers.”

She was taken aback for only a moment. Then she nodded and smiled broadly in return. “Guilty as charged, Doctor.”

“I imagine Commander Shepard would also be to your taste. The opportunity _will not arise_. Am I clear?”

“The Commander is emphatically spoken for. Got it. Anyone else on board you want to place off-limits?”

“So long as you don’t disrupt military discipline, no.”

“That won’t be a problem. How soon can I report aboard ship, and how much gear can I bring?”

“Right away, and one footlocker.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

That quickly, she went to pack and move aboard. I shook my head in bemusement. At least if we had to have a journalist on board, she would be both competent and enthusiastic about her work.

* * *

**_23 April 2186, Presidium Commons/Citadel_ **

Once I had Diana Allers properly instructed, I spent several hours working with some of my informants on the Citadel, receiving their reports and issuing new tasking for them. Finally I was able to walk out onto the Presidium itself, looking for my favorite wine-bar. I looked forward to an hour or two of peace and quiet, just me, my datapads, and some chilled _meliteia_.

At the top of the staircase leading down to the bar, I froze for just an instant.

Aethyta stood behind the bar, preparing a drink for a customer.

Fortunately I had caught her looking the other direction. She didn’t see my instant of hesitation. For a moment I considered turning away, but then I set my jaw and continued down the stairs, as if nothing at all concerned me.

_I might have known she would appear at some point._

I had first met Matriarch Aethyta about two and a half years before, when she took a job tending bar at the _Eternity_ lounge, close to my office on Illium. Over time, many of the T’Soni Analytics staff came to regard the Matriarch as a friend and confidante. Even I had become quite fond of her.

Until I discovered she was my father.

It may seem strange that after years as an information dealer, after I had become the _Shadow Broker,_ I could still nurse a sense of personal betrayal. I had fought to keep my own secrets, some of them far more significant than Aethyta’s. I had lied, cheated, stolen, sacrificed the lives of people close to me, and even committed cold-blooded murder on more than one occasion. I could hardly reproach anyone else for something as simple as concealing a blood relationship. For all I knew, Aethyta simply obeyed Benezia’s wishes on the matter.

The truth still burned. Once I learned the facts, I stopped visiting _Eternity_ , and I had not spoken a word to Aethyta since.

It didn’t help that after I became the Shadow Broker, I discovered she had more reason to observe me than simple parental curiosity. She had been _spying_ on me the entire time, on behalf of a coterie of Thessian Matriarchs. I suspected her principals might even have ordered her to assassinate me, if I managed to sufficiently frighten them.

So now I _was_ the Shadow Broker, and Councilor Tevos and the Matriarchs had to suspect something, and the most terrible war in galactic history was under way. _Of course_ the leaders of the asari people had concerns about the most influential renegade maiden in a thousand years. So, once more they sent Aethyta to take a position from which she could observe.

_To hell with the Matriarchs. To hell with Tevos. And to hell with you, father._

I walked over to my usual table, not even a glance to the side, and sat down as if I had not a care in the world. A waitress took my order, returning a few moments later with a glass of chilled _meliteia_.

It occurred to me that my honey-wine might be poisoned.

I drank from it anyway, not even bothering to scan it with my omni-tool first.

After two minutes passed with no symptoms, I picked up my datapad and began browsing through reports. The back of my neck itched, where I felt Aethyta’s eyes.

For almost an hour I held up my end of the standoff, doing my best to control my twitchy nerves. I sipped my honey-wine, a second glass after finishing the first, and carried on with my work. After a while, I managed to forget about my father’s presence for whole minutes at a time.

Then a shadow fell across me. I looked up to see Shepard sliding into another chair at my table. He had an odd expression on his face.

“Hello, Shepard.”

“Liara.” His jaw worked, as if he was trying to chew the words to make them more palatable. “That bartender over there . . .”

My heart sank. _Oh Goddess. Here it comes._

“The Matriarch the asari government hired to track my movements?” I took a sip of my wine. “What about her?”

Shepard blinked, clearly caught off-guard. _More_ off-guard than before. “She’s your father.”

“I know.”

“I never get to surprise you with _anything,”_ he complained.

“Well. I’m a _very_ _good_ information broker.” I sighed. “I came across the information several months ago, while I investigated Morinth’s activities on Illium. I had one of my technical experts break into the asari genetic archives, to see if I could discover Morinth’s identity. I took the opportunity to look at my own entry. My mother may have kept my father’s identity a secret, but _everything_ is recorded in the archives if you know where to look.”

“You haven’t talked to her about spying on you?”

“If I did that, they might send someone who isn’t as sympathetic. Can you imagine a _justicar_ being sent to monitor someone they think is, at the very least, an agent of the Shadow Broker?” I shook my head, refusing to even glance over my shoulder in Aethyta’s direction. “I’m walking a very fine line with Councilor Tevos and the Matriarchs as it is. I can’t afford to lose control of the situation. Not with the war summit hanging in the balance. This isn’t the time for family reunions.”

“Liara . . .” Shepard gave me a very eloquent expression: _You’re rationalizing, my love._

Suddenly I remembered one of the drawbacks to bonding with someone as intelligent as Shepard. I couldn’t dissemble to _him_ , no matter how desperately I wanted to. I made an exasperated sound and rose from my chair. “Oh, _fine.”_

His gaze followed me as I walked, stiff-backed with resentment and anger, up to the bar.

Aethyta glanced up, saw me approaching, and froze. I’m not certain what expression she saw on my face and in my eyes, but it must have been rather intimidating.

I stopped, leaned on the bar with both hands, and continued to stare at her. “Hello, Father.”

She blinked, once, and I could see her mind working at high speed behind her sharp reddish-brown eyes. “So you figured it out. I wondered why you quit visiting _Eternity_ all of a sudden.”

“Indeed. You can tell the Matriarchs that I’ve seen through their little game.”

She stood upright, all grace and wiry strength, and a small part of my mind reminded me that she could be very dangerous indeed. “Don’t think I’ll do that. You don’t want to scare the Matriarchs any more than they already are.”

“So who’s behind this? Thessala?”

“You know I can’t talk about that. I’m sure you can figure it out on your own, if you need to.” Aethyta snorted. “Besides, _Thessala?_ I wouldn’t give _that_ idiot the time of day.”

“I suppose not.” _Damn it, she’s charming me. I refuse to be charmed_. “So what _is_ going on, Father? Why _have_ you been spying on me all this time?”

“You can’t blame the Matriarchs for keeping an eye on you. Look at what your mother did. Then you go off and become some hot-shot information broker, in thick with pirates and mercs and Goddess knows what else out in the Terminus. You deal with the _Shadow Broker_ , of all people, and it starts looking as if you’ve got him in your hip pocket instead of the other way around. Then there’s the bondmate, who used to work for Cerberus . . .”

“All right. I might understand it, if I had ever _even once_ gone against the interests of our people. But I haven’t. I’ve spent the last three years doing everything I can to fight for our survival. I am _not_ my mother.”

“Liara.” She watched me, calm and very determined. “I know that. Every report I’ve sent back has said the same thing.”

“Then why do you still hover over me?”

“Don’t think of me as a spy. Think of me as a guardian spirit.”

I snorted in derision. “Really?”

“Really. I watch over you. I make sure the Matriarchs know you’re no threat. As long as I’m here, they stay out of your business.”

“It’s true, they haven’t interfered as much as I might have expected.”

“You’re welcome.”

I sighed. “All right, Father. But there’s still the other item on the list.”

“Yeah. _Why didn’t I ever tell you who I was?”_

“Yes.” I gave her my best blue-eyed innocent stare, and waited.

All at once she dropped her gaze. If it a thousand-year-old Matriarch could possibly look _ashamed_ , Aethyta managed it.

“Hell, kid. Nezzie made that decision before you were even born. I’ve had more than a century to get used to the idea that I wasn’t going to be part of your life. Didn’t like it, but there it was. I thought maybe she would say something to you, when she thought it was the right time, but I guess she never did. Then she got mixed up with that Saren bastard, and then she got killed, and it was too late. I thought about coming to talk to you, but you had your own problems. Last thing you needed was your dad showing up to complicate things.”

I looked down at the bar’s smooth surface, not certain what I was feeling. “I always wondered if you were ashamed of my mother. Ashamed of me.”

“Is _that_ what you thought?” Aethyta made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. _“Damn._ No, that had nothing to do with it. I don’t give a shit about all that _pureblood_ nonsense. If anything, I thought you might be ashamed of _me.”_

I looked up and frowned at her.

“I’m not like Nezzie. I’m a rough-and-tumble brawler who got her education in the school of adversity, not a high-flown aristocrat like her. Not near as smart as she was, certainly not near as smart as _you_ are. The one time I ever tried to do the _wise counselor_ thing, they laughed the blue off my ass. Figured I would never be more than a weight around your ankles.”

I held her gaze and saw nothing but sincerity.

“Kid . . . Liara . . . the things you’ve been doing? Every day for over three years now, I’ve been waking up thanking the Goddess I got to see it, even if you never found out who I was. I’ve had other kids, they’re all good asari and they’ve done well for themselves, but _you_ . . .”

I searched my heart. Somehow I couldn’t find any lingering anger, unless at the circumstances that had kept us apart for so many years. Slowly, almost without willing it, I reached out to lay my hand over hers. “Thanks. Father.”

She smiled, like a sudden sunrise. “Any time, kid.”

“So.” I took a deep breath. “Can we start over?”

“You bet. Here, let me get you another drink. _Meliteia_ , wasn’t it?”

I nodded and watched as she produced the chilled bottle and a fresh glass, pouring the amber honey-wine with a flourish. She checked to make sure the other bartender could cover the early evening traffic, and then poured a glass for herself.

“So . . . yeah,” she said slyly, watching me over her glass. _“My_ dad was a krogan.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that.”

“So that makes you a quarter krogan.”

I shook my head in bemusement. “That’s not how it works.”

“Hmm. I’m a thousand years old. I’ve had kids with hanar. Don’t tell _me_ how asari reproduction works.”

“I will concede that you have more practical experience than I do.” I had to freeze in mid-sip. “Wait. I have half-sisters who are part _hanar?”_

“I thought that wasn’t how it worked,” she teased.

“That’s very unusual.”

“You should meet them. They both live back on Thessia, nice matrons, kids of their own. Charis is a civil engineer, Lystria’s a musician. Sweet-tempered girls, both of them. Goddess knows they must have gotten that from their father. They certainly didn’t get it from me.”

“I’ll admit, all these years of not knowing who my father was, I often wondered what traits I might have acquired from her. From you.”

Aethyta chuckled. “Yeah, well, you’re definitely Nezzie’s kid. That T’Soni blood always seems to rise to the top. But if you ever feel the urge to head-butt something, all I’m saying is, it’s genetic.”

I scoffed. “I have never wanted to _head-butt_ anything.”

“Really? Not even a _little_ bit? Come on!”

“I do _not_ head-butt people!”

“All right, _fine,_ don’t go all _blood-rage_ on me.”

I growled in exasperation.

She grinned, her point proven.

I set my wine-glass down and leaned a little closer, setting up a small, intimate space between us. “I admit to a great deal of curiosity. What was it like, being with Benezia?”

“Some of the best years of my life, kid.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes. Strange, how different we were, and yet we got along great for a long time. We were together for more than a century.”

“You loved her?” I asked gently.

“Of _course_ I loved her. She was so smart. Always thinking. Nice, too. Hell of a lot nicer than I am.” Aethyta gave me a wicked smile. “And _damn,_ that _rack_. I mean, even before she hit the Matriarch stage . . .” She whistled in appreciation.

“You don’t need to tell me _everything.”_

“Yeah, yeah, nobody ever wants to hear about her _parents_ getting it on. Let’s just say we were really, _really_ compatible. Like you and that human of yours, from what I hear.”

“Don’t go there, Father. I am _not_ telling you about my relationship with Shepard.”

“Aww. Not even a few juicy details?”

“You’ll have to ask him.”

“Maybe I will. I’ve had a couple nice chats with him already.” She took a deep sip of her wine and smiled reflectively. “It wasn’t just the sex, though that _was_ real good. Nezzie always took me seriously, even when none of the other Matriarchs would. She was the only one who ever listened to me, when I said the asari were stuck in the past. Only difference was, I wanted us to start standing on our own. She wanted tighter alliances with the other species. After a while we were like two draft beasts pulling in opposite directions.”

“Is that why . . .”

“Why it ended? Nah.” Then she looked down, shadows in her eyes. “Well, maybe. I don’t know. I think mostly it ended because she wanted to solve things the _smart_ way, and I wanted to fight.”

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“Yeah. I hear _you’ve_ racked up quite a body count. But then, you _are_ a quarter krogan.”

I groaned. “Now you’re doing it on purpose.”

“Too bad, though. After a while, we just didn’t see eye to eye. I still loved her, she still loved me, but we couldn’t be _partners_ anymore. Besides, the more important and influential she became, that started coming between us too.”

“Her role as a Matriarch?”

“Yeah. Like I said, I never had any following worth the name, but _she_ started picking up acolytes by the shipload. After a while, she started having to choose between our bond and her political work.” She made a deep sigh. “It was pretty clear she was leaving. Can’t be the _wise counselor_ when you’re bonded.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Why not?”

“Sex appeal. Younger asari, most of the other species? They’ll only _really_ pay attention if they want to have sex with you, but they’re not sure if they’ll ever get the chance. So you have to be available, but at the same time mysterious.”

“What? That’s not true. Shepard listens to me!”

“Yeah? And just how many times have you popped _his_ heat sink?”

I rolled my eyes in disgust. “Do you have to make it sound so tawdry?”

“Hey, if it’s all civilized, you’re not doing it right.”

Involuntarily I had a very vivid memory: one particular night during which Shepard had been _quite_ the barbarian. I felt my face color. Aethyta saw that, and gave me a nod and an evil smile.

“So that was just before I was born?”

“Yeah.” She scowled for a moment, obviously recalling some old anger. “Shocked the hell out of me when I heard she was pregnant. She was too old, for one thing, and she hadn’t talked to me about it at all. She must have somehow opened the Gate of the Goddess one of those last few times we were together, and there you were, on the way. After all those centuries with no kids of her own. Strangest damn thing.”

“Perhaps she wanted something to remember you by, even if you weren’t bonded anymore.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. We did talk a few times after that, even after you were born, but mostly we just fought. Finally I agreed to stay away, let her raise you without any help from me. You must have been five or six years old then. I made her promise to let you go your own way, though. No matter what she wanted.”

“Really?”

Her voice dropped, lost its rough edge. “I knew you’d be special, kid. Any daughter of hers. I told her: _You’re treating her like a baby bird, Nezzie, but she’s going to raise one hell of a storm with those little wings.”_

It was like a blow to the heart. I gasped to get enough air. “Little Wing?”

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

She patted my free hand. “Better to remember her like this, instead of as whatever she turned into with that Saren bastard.”

“Father, you shouldn’t blame her for what happened. It wasn’t her fault. She was trying to stop Saren, guide him as a force for good. But she was indoctrinated.”

“Look, I heard stories about the Reapers messing with your head . . .”

“They’re more than stories. I’ve seen it. Every Cerberus soldier is a Reaper slave. Benezia fought it with every fiber of her being. She even broke free, and helped us on Noveria before she died.” I looked away, wiping at the tears that threatened to well up in my eyes. “I was there. She said . . . she said I’d made her proud.”

Aethyta leaned back, staring at me. “All this time I blamed Nezzie for it. Thousand years old and I _still_ don’t know crap. Thanks for telling me.”

A familiar sense of presence at my elbow: Shepard, stepping up to stand beside me at the bar. “Everything going okay here?”

I took his hand and squeezed it gently. Aethyta saw that and smiled, nodding her head. “Yeah, Shepard, thanks for pushing the two of us to talk. It was good.”

“I wish I could give you more time together,” he said. “I just got a call from _dalatrass_ Linron. She’s willing to meet with us and the Primarch, even if Wrex is there too. That’s an opportunity we can’t afford to pass by.”

“Of course, Shepard.” I looked at Aethyta, thinking _this is my father_ once more in the back of my mind, wondering how I would adjust to having a family relationship with her. I felt confused, uncertain, but on the whole I decided it was going to be a good thing. “I’m sorry I was angry at you. Let’s stay in touch, if you think we can do that without frightening half of the Matriarchs on Thessia.”

“You let me worry about that, kid. I think I can spin it so they’ll stay off your back. Besides, you and your bondmate here are going to be running into a lot more dangerous situations than that.”

“Probably true.” I leaned across the bar to embrace her, for just a moment. “Goodbye for now.”

“Take care of yourself out there, okay, kid?”

“I will . . . Dad.”

“Hey.” She cleared her throat, fighting to keep her voice steady. “I’ve called a few friends. Commandos. Eclipse maidens who aren’t under that crazy Jona Sederis’s thumb. They owe me some favors. They’re all yours. Just tell them where to go.”

I blinked in surprise. “You’re giving me asari commandos?”

“Well, you’re too old for me to buy you a damn _pony_. Besides, if you’re going to be a mover and shaker, you need more than just _one_ acolyte. These girls are already impressed with you. They’ll swear the oath if you let them.”

“Goddess, as if having one acolyte wasn’t enough to scandalize the Matriarchs.”

“Kid, I’ll give you a little secret. The Matriarchs are _always_ scandalized about _something_. At least you’re doing it by getting out there and accomplishing important things. In the long run, that’s all that matters.”

“Exactly what I’ve been trying to tell her for a while now,” Shepard grumbled.

“I can see I’m outnumbered.” I gave Aethyta a happy smile, and realized it was sincere. “You’re the best father a maiden could wish for.”


	14. Alliances

**_24 April 2186, Pranas System Space_ **

Less than an hour before our rendezvous with the diplomatic ships, Shepard and I retired to my office to prepare. Glyph set up all the documents we might need.

Anticipating Urdnot Wrex didn’t seem likely to pose a problem, since we both knew the scarred old krogan quite well. Primarch Victus also promised few surprises, since Shepard and I had already consulted with him at length. _Dalatrass_ Linron, on the other hand . . .

“I don’t know much about salarian politics,” Shepard admitted, standing behind me to watch the data on my console.

“Few outsiders do.” I struggled for a moment with my memory. “I seem to recall there is a word in your language that would be appropriate. It suggests great complexity, sophistication, stealth, and deviousness. I believe it is derived from the name of one of your historical cultures . . .”

“Ah,” said Shepard. _“Byzantine.”_

“That’s it.” I peered up at him. “I don’t know the details, but I can guess what these _Byzantines_ were like, given the connotations of the word. Now expand those features by an order of magnitude, and you may have some idea of salarian internal politics.”

“More complex than _asari_ politics?” he asked, amused.

“Considerably so. My people have some skill at deception and manipulation, but the _issues_ in our politics tend to be relatively simple, and most Matriarchs permit their schemes to play out over long periods of time. Salarian _dalatrass_ think quickly, scheme quickly, act quickly, and their politics are _personal_ to a much greater degree. They seek out every possible advantage for their own bloodlines.”

“So tell me about Linron.”

I worked with my console, calling up an image and a waterfall of biographical data. “By most measures, Linron is the third most powerful _dalatrass_ in the Salarian Union. She holds suzerainty over about one-quarter of the salarian homeworld. Her direct and indirect subjects number nearly three billion.”

“You make her sound like some sort of queen,” said Shepard.

“In a way, she is. Salarian society is organized along feudal lines. Each _dalatrass_ holds specific territories for her bloodline, usually as a fiefdom from a more senior _dalatrass_. Linron is at the top of her personal hierarchy, recognizing no other individual as her superior. Indeed, she is the _most_ powerful _dalatrass_ of the homeworld, holding the planetary capital at Talat.”

“So the most powerful aristocrat on Sur’Kesh only rules over a fraction of the planet’s surface area and population.” Shepard’s eyes darkened as he scanned Linron’s biography, thinking hard. “She must have rivals.”

“Yes. My most recent assessment identifies five other _dalatrass_ that are both hostile to Linron and powerful enough to compete on her level. Narra of Mannovai is probably the most influential.”

“So if Linron won’t play ball . . .”

I shook my head. “I don’t think it would be that easy. Narra and Esheel have more territory and wealth, but they are based in the salarian colonies and don’t have Linron’s central position. Valern and Sendar are based on Sur’Kesh, and Valern of course has her connection to the salarian Councilor, but neither of them matches Linron’s wealth and influence.”

Shepard nodded. “We _could_ try to talk to all of them and put together an anti-Linron alliance, but even moving at the speed of salarians that would take time. Weeks, maybe months, and all the while the Reapers are chopping Earth and Palaven to pieces.”

“I doubt that any of the top-tier _dalatrass_ would be interested in an alliance involving the krogan.” I sighed in disgust. “I’m sorry, Shepard, but I don’t think we can count on salarian support in this war. At least not until the Reapers pose a more immediate threat to salarian worlds.”

“And yet Linron agreed to meet with us,” Shepard mused. “I wonder what she’s up to.”

“I’ve queried my informants in her territory. So far I’ve heard nothing to indicate what she may be thinking.”

Shepard rubbed at the stubble on his chin, staring at the image if Linron as if trying to read her mind. After a moment, he nodded slowly to himself.

“Victus,” he said.

I frowned at him. “I don’t follow.”

“She’s not here to talk to me, and she’s certainly not here to talk to Wrex. The asari didn’t send an official representative at all. Does she know you’re the Shadow Broker?”

“I don’t think so. Salarians are good at espionage, but I haven’t seen any indication that the STG has penetrated that deeply into my network.”

“Then the only person at that table she’s likely to respect is the Primarch. She’s heard that Victus suggested an alliance with the krogan, and she’s not happy about it. She’s here to try to keep the turians in line with the old Citadel power structure. The one that keeps asari, salarians, and turians in charge, humans barely tolerated, and krogan all the way out.”

I nodded, impressed. “That’s a very good guess, Shepard. I wouldn’t be surprised in the least.”

Just then we heard Samantha Traynor’s voice, from her post in the CIC. _“Commander, the salarian_ dalatrass _and the krogan clan chief are ready to come aboard.”_

“Thank you, Traynor. Have them escorted to the conference room.” Shepard turned to me as I rose from my desk. “Showtime. Are you ready?”

“No, but that’s never made a difference before.”

“Hah!” With me at his side, he strode out the door, heading for the lifts. “Let’s just hope this doesn’t start another war.”

* * *

“I am Commander William Shepard, Alliance Navy, in command of _Normandy_. I also have the honor of being a Council Spectre. I’d like to welcome all of you to this conference. I hope we can find a way to work together against the enemy that threatens all of our worlds.”

Five of us stood around _Normandy_ ’s conference table. Urdnot Wrex stood to Shepard’s left, dominating the room with his sheer physical presence, massive in his crimson battle armor, but unarmed for the moment. Primarch Victus stood at the far end of the table, looking tiny compared to the massive krogan, watching all of us with fierce attention. _Dalatrass_ Linron stood to Shepard’s right, a bulky female salarian in full ceremonial robes, her body language carefully controlled but whispering of anger and mistrust.

I stood in the shadows behind Shepard and to his left, where I could observe everything and say nothing.

“Yeah, Shepard, that would be nice.” Wrex paced slightly on his side of the table, his deep voice even more thunderous than usual. “A little naïve, though. Especially with these two.”

“You see, Primarch?” Linron deliberately ignored Wrex, turning to speak to the turian as if none of the rest of us were present. “The krogan has no sense for the ebb and flow of negotiation. I am forced to question your judgment. Why should the turians turn away from their age-old alliance with asari and salarians, in favor of these brutes and upstarts?”

I nodded to myself. _Shepard’s hypothesis seems confirmed._

Victus shook his head, but his voice remained smooth and calm. “With all due respect, _dalatrass_ , the asari and salarians have thus far not lifted a finger to aid the Turian Hierarchy. The humans have already done more, and they have proven willing to approach the krogan at my request. Against this threat, I will seek alliances where I can find them.”

“Well, you’ll get no alliance from Clan Urdnot,” snarled Wrex. “Not unless I can get something from it for _my_ people.”

“The krogan is in no position to make demands!” hissed Linron.

 _“The krogan_ has a name: Urdnot Wrex. And I think the fact I’m here says I _am_ in a position to make demands.” Wrex grinned at the Primarch, a rather frightening expression. “Guess the turians think they need us now. Too bad they made sure there aren’t enough of us around to be much use.”

Victus leaned on the table to stare at the krogan. “Wrex, the genophage was over a thousand years ago. I’m not the one responsible for it.”

“And I’m not just some junkyard varren you can unleash whenever you’re in trouble!”

I glanced at Wrex, reading his body language, and smiled to myself. He clearly intended to put on a show of being the _angry krogan_ , but I could see clues in his posture and kinesics that said otherwise. He was _using_ his image as an unsophisticated barbarian.

_Now, how well can Linron and Victus see that?_

“I’ve got my own problems,” Wrex continued, moderating his voice. “Reaper scouts have arrived on Tuchanka. So why should I care if a few turians go extinct?”

Victus shook his head, and I thought I saw a gleam of understanding in his eyes. “Trying to draw out negotiations will get you nowhere, Wrex. I have no time for it. Just tell us what you want.”

“I’ll tell you what I _need.”_ Wrex looked around the table, drawing out his moment. _“A cure for the genophage.”_

That bombshell had all the effect Wrex could have wished for. Shepard and I took it in stride, since we already knew just how much progress had already been made toward formulating a genophage cure. Victus leaned back slightly, his eyes wide, as he realized just what cost he might have to pay for the alliance he wanted.

Linron, of course, recoiled from the table in disgust. “Absolutely not! The genophage is non-negotiable.”

“Why are you so opposed to the idea, _dalatrass?”_ asked Shepard.

“Because my people uplifted the krogan,” she replied, putting all her authority in her voice. “We know them best.”

Wrex loomed across the table, making big gestures as he shouted. “You mean you _used_ us! To fight a war you couldn’t win! It wasn’t the salarians, or the asari, or even the turians who stopped the rachni. It was _krogan_ blood that turned the tide.”

“And after that, you ceased to be useful!” snapped Linron. “The genophage was the only way to keep your _urges_ in check.”

For a moment, I felt _very_ thankful that Wrex had no weapons and stood on the wrong side of the table. Certainly he appeared ready to commit murder and enjoy a nice meal of salarian liver afterward, and I could be quite certain that _wasn’t_ an act. But then I saw a fleeting glance to his left, to see what effect the byplay had on Primarch Victus.

_Linron, you may be frightfully intelligent, you may rule three billion salarians, but you have less than four decades of experience. Wrex is nearly two thousand years old, and has been watching galactic politics that entire time. He’s managed to almost completely reunify Tuchanka in less than three years. And he is playing you for a fool._

Centuries later, I still marvel that I was present, at that moment when history decisively turned on its hinge.

It began when Victus turned to the salarian, his body language suggesting an unconscious but entirely sincere rush to the krogan’s defense. _“Dalatrass,_ you may not like him, but Wrex is right. Insulting him won’t change that.”

“I won’t apologize for speaking the truth!” Linron glared hatred and contempt at Wrex. “We uplifted the krogan to do one thing: wage war. It’s all they know, because it’s all we _wanted_ them to know.”

_No, it’s all you believe them capable of because it’s all you were concerned about at the time._

Shepard had been silent, playing the part of the polite host and letting the heads of state work through their dispute. Now he piled on. “Your people should have thought the matter through, then. Was it really a surprise that the krogan rebelled?”

“That’s precisely my point, Commander. We made a rash decision. We turned to the krogan in desperation. It’s the same mistake you’re about to make today. No good can come from curing the genophage.”

Shepard glanced down the table and caught the Primarch’s eye. The turian made a microscopic nod.

“The krogan have paid for their mistakes,” Shepard said, all his natural concern for justice ringing in his voice. “The genophage has gone on long enough.”

Wrex grunted. “One thousand, four hundred and seventy-six years. If you’re keeping track.”

“It was a thousand years of peace,” said Linron. “Free from these _brutes.”_

“Enough!” retorted the Primarch. “Whether or not the krogan deserve a cure is moot. It would take years to formulate one.”

“My information says otherwise,” said Wrex, with the air of someone ready to drop yet another revelation in our midst. He stalked up to the controls at the Primarch’s end of the table, and worked with his omni-tool for a moment. He called up imagery on the display screen: a dark space, hard to make out, the viewpoint scuttling along as if someone rushed about with a hand-held camera. “A little over a year ago, a salarian scientist named _Maelon_ grew a conscience. He came to Tuchanka to test a genophage cure on our females.”

Shepard glanced over his shoulder, and our eyes met for an instant. “I remember. His methods were barbaric.”

“What you didn’t know is that a few females _survived_ his experiments.” The imagery on the screen became clearer. We could all see salarians, using scientific instruments, working at computer consoles. Then a row of isolation chambers, each one containing a single bulky figure. Krogan females: almost never seen by outsiders, _never_ seen off Tuchanka. “So the _dalatrass_ here sent in a team to clean up the whole mess, and to take those survivors prisoner.”

Linron recoiled, losing control of her posture and her voice for a moment. “Where did you get this? It . . . it could be a fabrication!”

“Don’t insult me,” shouted Wrex. “Those are my people! They’re immune to the genophage, and you’re going to give them back!”

 _“Dalatrass,_ is this true?” demanded Victus.

Linron folded her arms, casting aside any pretense at deception. “How will curing the genophage benefit _my_ people?”

Shepard growled, “How long do you think you’ll last, alone against the Reapers? Because if you don’t help, that’s how it will end up.”

“And I’ll be the last friendly turian you ever see.” Positively _arctic,_ the Primarch’s voice.

Linron looked around at the rest of us, suddenly aware that the whole edifice of her alliance was about to crumble. She even glanced at me, where I stood in the shadows, and got no help at all.

“What’s it going to be?” Shepard demanded.

“The females are being kept at one of our STG bases on Sur’Kesh,” said the _dalatrass_ in surrender. “But I warn you, Commander, the consequences of this . . .”

Shepard interrupted the sovereign ruler of three billion people. “Will be _nothing_ compared to what happens if the Reapers win.”

“Let’s get the females!” crowed Wrex.

Linron shook her head. “You’re not setting foot on Sur’Kesh! This will take time to . . .”

“It happens _now,”_ snapped Victus. “As a Council Spectre, Shepard can oversee the exchange.”

“We’re going,” said Shepard flatly. He turned and stalked out of the conference room, the rest of us in his train, Linron abandoned to stand alone in our wake.

“I won’t forget this, Commander! A bully has few friends when he needs them most.”

 _Well_ , I thought. _You would certainly know about that, wouldn’t you?_

* * *

**_24 April 2186, Special Task Group Base Terevai/Sur’Kesh_ **

Shepard didn’t expect or want a fight. He brought along a minimal team: Wrex for the krogan, Garrus to represent the Primarch, and me.

On our way, Shepard tried to mollify Wrex. “This is the salarian homeworld we’re headed to. They aren’t used to seeing krogan here, so let’s keep this simple. We land, get the females, and leave before anyone changes their mind.”

“I still don’t trust a word they say,” Wrex rumbled.

“I can’t say I blame you. Let diplomacy play out, Wrex. You’ll get what you want.”

“These females are the best, and probably the _last_ hope for my people.”

I stepped in. “We’ll bring them back, Wrex, don’t worry.”

“I appreciate that, Liara.” He gave me something I would have thought almost impossible: a warm smile. “I wouldn’t want anyone else along for the ride.”

I reached out and patted the old krogan’s shoulder.

_We’ve come a long way since I met you, and thought you nothing but a frightening barbarian._

Garrus cleared his throat pointedly.

“I suppose I can make room for you too, Garrus.” Wrex chuckled, a deep rumble.

“Figured you’d gone soft sitting on your throne, forgot how to hold a gun.”

“That will be the day.”

Cortez called from the cockpit. “Commander, I have the STG base on sensors.”

“Set her down.”

Moments passed. The shuttle descended toward the STG installation, heading for a wide terrace on its southern edge. Wrex and Garrus compulsively checked their weapons. I exchanged a look with Shepard, each of us aware of the other’s tension.

 _There’s too much that can still go wrong_.

Almost on cue, Cortez spoke up once more. “Commander, salarian ground control says we don’t have clearance to land.”

Shepard stepped over to the cockpit. “Tell them the _dalatrass_ authorized this herself.”

“I _knew_ they’d never keep their word.” Wrex strode across the passenger compartment, reaching for the hatch controls. “Let’s see them try to stop a krogan airdrop!”

“Wrex!”

The krogan slammed the hatch open and, with a roar, leaped down almost four meters to the terrace below. At once, two armed salarians swarmed up onto the terrace to block his passage.

“We have an unauthorized landing!” one soldier called into his helmet radio.

“Yeah? And who authorized _you_ to hold my entire race hostage?” Wrex gestured, creating a blue flare of biotic force to knock the salarians off their feet. He drew his shotgun, clearly prepared to fight his way into the facility if need be.

Then he looked up into a _flurry_ of targeting lasers.

Snipers, on an upper terrace, a whole squad of them ready to fire.

_Oh Goddess, now it begins._

Shepard jumped down to follow Wrex. Garrus and I followed. More salarians arrived. The terrace began to feel very crowded.

“Stand down! Hold your fire!” shouted another voice, a salarian in a _tearing_ hurry.

By some miracle, the voice was obeyed.

“Commander Shepard, restrain your colleague!” shouted the new salarian as he arrived on the terrace, armored all in black unlike most of his teammates, clearly a senior STG operative.

I did a double-take.

“Captain Kirrahe!” exclaimed Shepard, stepping forward to greet the newcomer.

The salarian shook Shepard’s hand, smiling broadly. “I’m pleased to see you as well, Commander. Dr. T’Soni. _Propraetor_ Vakarian. Although it’s _Major_ now.”

“It’s been a long way from Virmire.”

“Yes. For all of us. Although I suspected even then that we would see each other again one day. In any case, I must apologize. We only found out about this transfer a few moments ago.”

Shepard nodded, projecting calm. “I’d like to avoid a diplomatic incident.”

“As would we . . .”

“But you have something valuable to Wrex.”

“Something worth dying for,” said the krogan. “To say nothing of it being worth _killing_ for.” He eyed Kirrahe with no evidence of warmth. I remembered that the STG officer had snubbed Wrex rather badly on Virmire.

“Please understand,” said Kirrahe, still addressing Shepard instead of Wrex. “No matter what some politician might say, we still consider krogan a hostile race.”

“I wonder why,” rumbled Wrex.

“I’m sure these matters can be resolved, but we must insist that the krogan remain under guard.”

Wrex growled.

Shepard hastily turned to him, making a calming gesture. “I can handle this, Wrex.”

The krogan watched Shepard for a moment, clearly considering whether to trust him. Then he stood down, replacing his shotgun on its attachment point. “All right. But anything _else_ goes wrong, and all bets are off.”

Shepard, Garrus, and I moved to follow the black-armored salarian. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Wrex engaging in a dominance game with three salarian soldiers. Fortunately none of them had drawn firearms.

“I appreciate your understanding, Commander,” said Kirrahe. “With war on everyone’s mind, our people are on edge.”

 _Boom_. Just ahead, a massive creature hurled itself against the wall of a containment unit.

“Careful! Watch the containment field!” shouted one of the salarian operators.

“Is that . . .” breathed Garrus.

“Yes, it’s a yahg.” I sighed. “I had hoped to never see one of _those_ again.”

“You and me both.”

“As you can see, this base contains sensitive information,” said Kirrahe.

I made a mental note. If the salarians seriously considered uplifting the _yahg_ . . .

 _Who are the most likely targets? Do the salarians really understand how dangerous those creatures are?_ _Do they have any idea how to control the yahg once their objectives have been attained?_

The Shadow Broker – ironically – might be forced to take a hand to stop the scheme. Assuming any of us survived the Reapers.

“What kind of work goes on here?” asked Shepard, carefully paying no special attention to the yahg in its cage.

“Evolutionary trials. Morphological simulations, exogenetic assessments.”

“Nothing is ever simple with salarians, is it?”

“Science has always been our best defense. The research we do here has kept Sur’Kesh safe for millennia.”

“Does that include studying _lost_ krogan?”

“Please understand, Commander. The females were in very poor health when we found them on Tuchanka. Had we left them to the mercy of krogan medicine, they would certainly all have died. They were brought here to stabilize their condition.”

“I’d like to see them.”

“Of course. I’ll need to clear you for the lower levels. Wait here by the elevator, and give me a few moments to log my authorization in the system.” Kirrahe leaned close. “And Commander . . . many of us in the STG don’t care what the _dalatrass_ have to say. When the time comes, _we_ will help you retake Earth.”

“You would do that?”

“Not everyone has been ignoring your warnings about the Reapers all this time.” Kirrahe smiled once more. “Besides, we salarians owe a debt for Virmire, to you and Kaidan Alenko both. Don’t be shy about collecting it.”

Shepard nodded slowly, resting a comradely hand on Kirrahe’s shoulder. Then the salarian left us to wait.

“That was interesting,” I said quietly.

“I’ll say. What do you think it means?” asked Garrus.

“The STG has always been independent of the salarian feudal power structure. It’s composed entirely of males, not very interested in the schemes of the _dalatrass,_ committed instead to the survival of the species as a whole. Many of them are among the brightest of a very intelligent species.”

“Among turians, you’d be describing something like a secret society.”

“Turians have secret societies?” asked Shepard.

“Oh yes. Sometimes they’re the bane of our civilization. Every major separatist movement starts out as a secret society of would-be rebels.”

Shepard shook his head. “I just had a very strange mental image. A turian in a tuxedo, white gloves, and top hat, wearing a white apron and a square-and-compasses emblem around his neck . . .”

I snorted, not quite able to suppress a laugh. Then again, when I saw Garrus’s face.

“I’m glad Major Kirrahe had a chance to talk to us,” said Shepard, changing the subject. “Suddenly I’m feeling better about getting _some_ kind of alliance with the salarians. Liara, would you look further into this once we get back to the ship?”

“Of course, Shepard. I’ll issue some new tasking for the network as well. Carefully, of course. The STG are not to be engaged lightly in a game of espionage.”

“Didn’t you mention the first Shadow Broker was a salarian _dalatrass?”_

“Which rather proves my point,” I said, giving him a sharp-edged smile.

Just then Kirrahe returned, touching controls on his omni-tool and unlocking the elevator. “Commander, you and your associates have been cleared. Go ahead and step into the elevator. It will take you down to the laboratory levels where the krogan females are being held.”

Suddenly alarms sounded, and salarians all around us snapped to attention.

_“Alert. Alert. Threat condition two has been declared. Scramble readiness teams.”_

“What’s happening?” Shepard demanded.

Kirrahe opened his omni-tool again and scanned status displays, too quickly for my eye to follow. “Sensors have picked up activity on the perimeter. Hurry, Commander. Someone will meet you below.”

Shepard hesitated, looking back out to the terrace where we had come in. We all saw the salarians bustling about, obviously mustering to defend their facility. Gunships lifted off to soar out over the surrounding mountains. Soldiers formed up to receive orders and arm for battle. Off in the distance, we could see Wrex standing by the _Normandy_ shuttle, looking around, obviously hoping for a fight against _some_ enemy.

“Come on,” Shepard said at last. “We’d better get this done and get out of here.”

The elevator whisked us down what felt like several floors. Finally we emerged in a darkened sub-level, which I quickly realized looked familiar. This was the location we had seen in Wrex’s covert footage.

Moments after we stepped out, a salarian hurried up to us. In the dim light I found it hard to make out his features, but something about the shape of his face and head seemed familiar. Seamed skin of great age, salmon coloring fading to white around his mouth, one cranial horn half missing . . .

“Shepard! Excellent timing. Good to have you here.”

“Mordin!” Shepard hurried to shake the salarian’s hand.

“Eyesight still sharp. Surprise understandable. Hadn’t expected to return to work.”

I stepped forward to greet our old friend as well. “You’re back with STG?”

“Special consultant. Had to be me. Someone else might have gotten it wrong.” Mordin looked around furtively, verifying that no other salarians were within easy earshot. He leaned close. “Helped female krogan. Fed information to Clan Urdnot. Encouraged political pressure to free females.”

“You must be Wrex’s inside source,” I deduced.

“Yes.” Mordin set out across the floor, leading us deeper into the lab facility. “Can explain later. Security warnings _not normal._ Need to get off-world for sake of krogan. Females had weak immune systems. Side effects of Maelon’s cure. Most didn’t survive.”

There, behind a security railing, a row of isolation chambers. Each of them was occupied by a huddled form, not moving, covered by a blanket.

“What about Maelon’s research?” asked Shepard. “I thought we saved it.”

“Indeed. Data saved, but not complete. Lacked sufficient details to reconstruct cure. Still useful for _synthesizing_ cure from living tissue. Couldn’t save them.”

“I’m sure you did everything you could, Mordin.”

“Arrived too late.” Mordin turned decisively, led us further down the row of cages. “ _Cannot_ delay now. One survivor. Immune to genophage. Can synthesize cure from her tissue.”

“She’s still here?”

“Yes. Last hope for krogan. If she dies, genophage cure _problematic.”_

We reached the end of the row. There, in the last chamber, a krogan female still stood, propped up by some kind of prosthetic frame. She wore layers of robes, a great hood over her head and a veil over her face, but her eyes were visible, open and lively. Her head turned to watch us as we gathered outside her cage.

“Please be careful,” Mordin murmured. “Krogan slow to trust.”

Shepard stepped as close to the security rail as he could. “I’m Commander Shepard, Alliance Navy.”

A deep voice, yet smooth and feminine, heavy with fatigue and pain. “Are you here to kill me?”

Shepard stood silent, his face pale with shock.

I opened my omni-tool and scanned the krogan, finding evidence of terrible suffering. She may have survived her ordeal, but it had not been by much. “ _Goddess_. What she’s been through . . .”

“Urdnot Wrex and I are here to take you home,” said Shepard, as gently as possible.

“Why? What am I to you?”

“Have the salarians been mistreating you?”

A note of asperity crept into the krogan’s voice. “Those were my sisters you saw back there. They died in a lot of pain.”

Mordin shook his head in shame. “Did the best we could.”

“And now I know I’m the only one left.” The krogan’s eyes fixed on Shepard, glittering in the dim light. “That makes me dangerous to a lot of people. So answer my question, Commander Shepard. Why are you here? Why should you care about me?”

He set his jaw in determination, and met the krogan’s gaze without flinching. “You’re the future for the krogan species. I’m fighting for _that.”_

 _BOOM._ A distant explosion, muffled by the building’s bulk. Alarms began to sound, red lights to flash.

Very calmly, the krogan said, “Then I hope you’ve brought an army.”


	15. Gauntlet

**_24 April 2186, Special Task Group Base Terevai/Sur’Kesh_ **

Shepard’s omni-tool chimed for attention. When he opened it, the face of an angry krogan warlord confronted him.

_“Shepard! Cerberus is attacking the base. We need to get those females out now!”_

I exchanged a horrified glance with my bondmate.

_Cerberus? Attacking an STG facility on the salarian homeworld? Either they are very desperate, or they know something the salarians don’t._

Shepard shook his head. “Only one of them survived, Wrex. This place is built like a fortress. Maybe she would be safer down here.”

_“What? So the salarians can kill her too? No deal! You want this alliance, you get her out of here.”_

“Understood.” Shepard turned to Mordin. “Looks like we need to move. Can you transfer her back up to the loading area so we can take her off in our shuttle?”

“We’re in security lockdown,” objected another salarian. “We can’t clear any of the specimens for release . . .”

Suddenly the salarian convulsed, arcs of corona discharge skittering across his body.

“Objection noted,” said Mordin, deactivating his omni-tool. _“Now release krogan.”_

The salarian meekly worked with his console. The female krogan’s isolation pod began to move into the embrace of a bulky machine, a cargo elevator that led back to the upper levels of the facility.

“Must accompany krogan through release protocols,” said Mordin, rushing to climb into the elevator’s open cage. “Will not be able to cycle through checkpoints alone. Spectre authorization codes will clear each checkpoint. Hurry!”

“Got it. Double-time, people, let’s get back to the elevator.”

We hurried, dodging frantic salarians the whole way. The elevator doors opened before us . . .

“Oh _crap,”_ shouted Garrus. _“Bomb!”_

All of us dove for the floor, just as the elevator erupted in chaos and flames.

As I picked myself up and checked for injuries, I reviewed the flash-image I had retained from the moment the elevator doors opened. An explosive device, clearly of human manufacture.

_Cerberus indeed_. I felt a surge of bitterly cold anger. _The Illusive Man would naturally oppose any cure for the genophage. His troops are here to commit genocide against the krogan._

_He will not succeed._

I heard Shepard’s voice. “Is there another way up from here?”

“Yes, Commander.” A salarian voice, rapid and high-pitched with stress. “At the other end of this concourse, an emergency exit.”

“Everyone all right?”

Garrus nodded, checking his Mantis. I quickly took stock and exchanged a glance and a nod with Shepard.

“Then _let’s move.”_

We found the emergency exit, a tall ladder. Shepard led us, Garrus right behind, while I brought up the rear.

We emerged onto the first open level, only to find chaos loose on the world. We passed a fire-team of salarians, hammering at some unseen target with their rifles. From all sides I could hear gunfire and explosions. Two gunships engaged in a missile duel, silhouetted against the distant sky. I followed Shepard . . .

Out onto a terrace, containing more angry yahg than I ever wanted to see in my life.

Isolation pod after isolation pod against one wall. Each one contained a yahg, all of them roaring in rage and frustration, hurling themselves against the walls and containment fields. Quick as lightning but _very_ carefully, I checked to see that all the yahg were well-contained. Only then did my heart start beating normally once more.

A shadow fell across the sun. A Cerberus shuttle hovered by the edge of the terrace, soldiers leaping out under cover of a pair of smoke grenades.

I hurled a singularity into their midst, then switched to my Shuriken while Shepard and Garrus opened fire. The Cerberus troopers weren’t ready for that kind of resistance. We could advance across the terrace, heading for the elevator at its far end.

One by one, the yahg stopped to watch us as we passed. I shivered under that many-eyed regard.

Another Cerberus shuttle. More smoke and gunfire.

I crouched beside a computer console for a moment’s cover, trying not to look at the yahg staring intently at me from two meters away. Then a thought struck me.

“Shepard. Hold this position for a moment.” I opened my omni-tool, established a connection with the console.

“A moment is all we have,” he growled.

I tapped furiously at my omni-tool. No luck, but I saw a way to punch through the STG defenses. “That’s all I need, if you’ll give me your Spectre codes for a moment.”

Shepard raised no more objection, opening his own omni-tool and sending the codes.

Several gigabytes of data began to cross the wireless connection. “That’s got it. Let’s go!”

“Do I want to know what that’s about?” he asked, as he emerged from cover and began to charge down on the remaining Cerberus troops, his shotgun blazing.

“It may be nothing.” I followed him, hurling a flurry of biotic warps into the Cerberus line. The data that would change galactic history continued to download into my personal storage.

We turned a corner, came face to face with another Cerberus fire-team. Then my heart threatened to stop again. A single yahg crashed through the wall of its isolation pod into their midst. Heavily armed and armored as they were, the creature still needed mere seconds to tear them to shreds. Fortunately it seemed to take no notice of us, or else it considered us unimportant. Within moments, it vaulted over the railing and vanished into the dense forest beyond.

“Careful,” said Shepard dryly. “There goes the next Shadow Broker.”

“Could have sworn it was growling _T’Soni!_ the whole time,” quipped Garrus.

“Not funny!”

We moved on, climbing a flight of stairs onto the next level.

_“Hurry, Shepard! Cerberus attacking isolation pod!”_

Shepard turned a corner, blurred, vanished into a flash-charge across the terrace. Almost too quickly, since Garrus and I had not yet reached a position to support him. We rushed ahead, to find Shepard in the midst of a wild melee with no less than _five_ Cerberus troopers.

_Crash. Crash._ His shotgun barked twice, each time putting a trooper down in a welter of blood. Garrus made a snap-shot to take out a trooper about to flank Shepard. When my bondmate put still another off-balance, I used a vicious telekinetic push to shove the enemy off the edge of the terrace.

“How are you doing?” Shepard asked, as he rested his shotgun against his shoulder and tapped at the checkpoint controls one-handed.

“Pod slightly damaged,” Mordin answered. “Will try to effect repairs. Female’s vital signs holding, but not optimal.”

“I’m fine, Commander,” said the female krogan, just a hint of strain in her voice.

“Hang in there. Wrex is waiting at the top. We’ll get you home safely.”

“Why are you doing this, Commander? You don’t know me.”

Shepard raised his eyes to stare at the krogan’s shadowy figure. “No, but I’d like to. Hang in there.”

The pod rose toward the next level.

“Shepard! Look out!”

_SLAM_. A tremendous explosion blew in the outer wall of the terrace, where the isolation pod had just been. A Cerberus shuttle hovered just beyond, troopers pouring fire in on us.

“Getting very tired of these people,” muttered Garrus.

Shotgun, sniper rifle, blue-white biotic force, we dealt with the troopers. Then we found our way forward blocked, wreckage from the battle filling up an access corridor. After a moment, Shepard chose to go _outside_ , out through the gap Cerberus had blown in the wall, moving along a narrow parapet dense with greenery. A few meters of very careful progress, a jump across a small gap, and we could make for the far end of the terrace once more.

More Cerberus troops appeared, this time at a considerable distance. Garrus took the opportunity to show off a little, falling into _the zone_ and working his Mantis like a precision instrument. _Boom – boom – boom_ and I could see fountains of blood and gore in the distance, three perfect headshots in as many seconds. Shepard and I used our biotics to disrupt and destroy the rest, clearing the path.

“Damn. I miss my old Volkov,” said Shepard as we moved.

“Yeah, I remember you used to be passable with a sniper rifle. Not up to the Vakarian standard, of course, but then I _am_ rather one of a kind.”

Shepard snorted. “These days I’m more of a wrecking ball.”

“To each his own.”

Up to the third level . . .

We saw a salarian, casually murdering a Cerberus trooper twice his mass in close-quarters combat.

“Major Kirrahe!” greeted Shepard.

“Greetings, Commander. I said I was looking forward to fighting with you again, but I didn’t expect it to be within the hour.” The STG operative frowned. “Very suspicious, for Cerberus to appear at exactly this juncture. How did they learn about the krogan?”

“A mole in the STG?” I suggested.

“Possibly. Could be indoctrinated. Might also explain how they got through planetary and perimeter defenses so easily.”

All of us heard voices from around the next corner: human, distorted by helmet comms. _Cerberus_.

Kirrahe produced an unusual weapon, a pistol, and whirled out around the corner. _Phut – phut – phut_. Three blue-glowing charges went flying down-range, striking and _adhering_ to Cerberus soldiers.

_Crack-crack-crack!_ The charges exploded, and three troopers went down in rapid succession.

“Go on, Commander!” shouted Kirrahe. “I’ll cover you.”

“Why do _I_ not have one of those?” muttered Garrus as we sprinted onto the next terrace.

Right into the middle of a Cerberus cross-fire.

This time they had combat engineers, ready with high-powered turret emplacements to block the terrace against our advance. The field rapidly became a hell of gunfire, enough to kill any of us almost instantly if we exposed ourselves.

“Take out the engineers!” Shepard ordered.

“Shouldn’t we take out the turrets?” I gasped, in between brief attempts to fire my Shuriken in the right general direction.

“That would only give them time to set up more,” Garrus explained, leaning out a few millimeters to give his Mantis a chance to fire. A Cerberus engineer forty meters away suddenly spun in place and went down.

I wasn’t much use against the turrets in any case. I concentrated on laying down a singularity or two, disrupting the Cerberus troops and giving my friends a chance to take them down quickly. Once the troops themselves had been thinned out, Garrus sent a wave of overload charges down-range, tearing down the turrets’ kinetic barriers. Major Kirrahe moved up and fired more proximity charges, placing them directly on the turret mechanisms with superb accuracy. Soon enough, the four of us could move forward.

“What is your objective, Commander?” the salarian asked when we had a moment to breathe.

“Professor Solus is with the last krogan female. We’re moving to clear her pod through the checkpoints so she can evacuate aboard our shuttle.”

“Sound strategy,” judged Kirrahe. “I will assist you.”

“You’re more than welcome,” said Shepard warmly.

“Interesting that Mordin would risk his life to help krogan. Always thought he was a bit of a cloaca.”

Shepard chuckled. “I’ve worked with him too, Major, and I would tend to agree. But he’s _our_ cloaca. His heart’s in the right place, and he’s got talent to burn.”

“Agreed on all counts. Even in the STG he has a considerable reputation for getting the job done.”

“Let’s hope his reputation holds,” I said quietly.

We found the next checkpoint under attack once more. Cerberus had cut the power to the lift as well. Once we defeated the Cerberus squad, we had to find the power shunt and reset it before we could proceed.

While Shepard worked with the power shunt, Kirrahe suddenly moved to a side table and picked up another Scorpion pistol, apparently left behind by one of his fellow STG agents. He tossed the weapon to Garrus without a word, smiling broadly. Garrus caught the pistol, examined it closely, and then holstered it with a nod and a gleam in his eye.

_Soldiers_ , I thought with a small smile. _No matter the species, they all speak the same language._

Finally we reached the top level once more, all of us sprinting wildly toward the sound of the guns. We arrived not a moment too soon. The isolation pod had come under the fiercest attack yet, almost two full squads of Cerberus troops dug in and pounding it with gunfire. The pod’s barriers already looked blotchy and flickering, about to come down.

Goddess, what a desperate fight. One at a time, no Cerberus trooper could match even _me_ , much less my heavily armed and combat-trained friends. This enemy outnumbered us three to one, and we had to win _fast,_ before they broke into the isolation pod and ended the last hope for the krogan people. At least the enemy had their backs turned, concentrating on their objective. That proved our only advantage.

Shepard vanished from sight, blurring into one flash-charge after another, faster than I had believed possible. At first I could find no cover, so I simply ran forward as well, my corona blazing white as a star, hurling telekinetic force to all sides in a desperate attempt to keep the enemy off balance. Garrus and Kirrahe switched to their assault rifles for the sheer volume of fire, raining death wherever they could.

Then the enemy realized his danger, and turned to the counterattack.

I had only an instant to grab an exposed trooper with my mind, hurling him away over the edge of the terrace. Then a hurricane of gunfire pursued me as I fled for cover. My biotic barrier fell, my kinetic shields, and then a single bullet punched straight through my armor just as I slid into safety. Pain like fire ran all down my left side, indigo blood everywhere, and I choked out a snarl as I slapped the medi-gel tab on my softsuit.

_Goddess, that was close_. _A few centimeters to the right and it would have been through my heart._

I could still hear a battle. I reached up, levered myself into a half-crouch with my one good hand, and peeked around my cover to see what was going on.

Garrus and Kirrahe advancing, one covering the other in rapid succession, picking off Cerberus troopers one at a time.

Shepard flash-charging into the midst of a Cerberus knot, smashing one to the floor, the other two flying backward with the force of his arrival.

I gritted my teeth, reached for my biotics and couldn’t quite get control of them. Once my kinetic barriers had recovered, I braced myself against my cover, brought my Shuriken to bear, and began firing back. Fortunately, shock never quite took me out of the fight. I could even stand and move up a bit, once my friends had broken the Cerberus line and the storm of hostile gunfire faded away.

Just in time for an Atlas mech to slam down on the outer terrace.

It moved up ponderously, its pilot spotting the isolation pod where it waited to be opened at last. Then Shepard, Garrus, and Kirrahe attacked it, drawing its fire.

I hurried to support them, as best I could with broken ribs and a gunshot wound along my left flank.

The mech turned, passing behind a support column, then standing at the top of a shallow staircase where it could look down onto the terrace. It raised its right arm, the rocket launcher pointing directly at me. I could hear the screech of the launcher’s capacitor charging to maximum.

Then little blue-white spheres festooned the enormous mech, half a dozen of them at least.

Garrus and Kirrahe fired their Scorpion pistols as rapidly as possible, covering the Atlas with proximity mines.

The pilot turned his head. Despite his closed helmet, I could sense consternation.

_Crack! Crack – crack – crackcrackcrack!_

A wave of explosions blanketed the mech. Shepard fired his shotgun at it from point-blank range, and then hurled a powerful biotic shockwave to knock it off its feet entirely. I even managed to raise my Shuriken and pepper it with bullets.

It fell, its self-destruct charges kicking in a moment later to blow it to scrap.

Shepard noticed the blood on my armor. “Liara!”

I waved him off. “It looks worse than it is. I can stay on my feet until we get back to _Normandy._ See to the krogan.”

He ignored me, rushing over to put a supportive arm around my waist. I admitted to myself that I was glad for the help, even if it did hurt like fire.

Our shuttle landed once more in its place on the outermost terrace. The hatch opened to let Wrex strut out, every line of his massive body speaking of deep satisfaction. “Well, Shepard, you had me worried there for a few moments. Thought you might have gotten soft since we took out Saren. Although I have to admit, your pilot is pretty damn good.”

Shepard scowled at him. “Not in the mood, Wrex.”

“What, because Liara took a hit? Even from here I can see it’s just a scratch. Anyone with _krogan_ in her family tree can bounce back from a little thing like that.” And the scarred old krogan _winked_ at me.

_All right, how does_ he _know that when I only learned about it a few months ago?_

I realized I would need to have a long chat with Wrex about his intelligence sources, as soon as possible. For the moment, I gave him back a rather strained smile. “Too bad my grandfather didn’t pass along his regenerative ability. Or – _ai!_ – his redundant nervous system.”

“Hah! He gave you krogan _spirit_. That’s what counts!”

Wrex turned, brusquely pushing Mordin aside, and offered the female krogan assistance in disembarking from her isolation pod.

She glanced at him, amused pride in her eyes, and ignored his hand as she stepped down. Then, quick as a striking serpent, she grabbed his Claymore shotgun and fired it twice, one-handed and with no time to aim.

The two Cerberus troopers who had just landed behind us fell, their armor smashed, covered in blood.

The female tossed the Claymore back its owner and turned to head for our shuttle. “I can take care of myself, Wrex.”

All of us glanced at the krogan warlord, Garrus and Kirrahe looking especially amused.

He shrugged. “Women.”

* * *

**_24 April 2186, Interstellar Space_ **

I had managed a good job of self-diagnosis. The bullet scored my side, gouging out a nasty wound and breaking two ribs, but it reached no vital organs. Medi-gel kept me alive and in good condition until Dr. Chakwas could repair the damage. She then ordered me to bed, and put me on the light-duty roster for at least the next few days. I tried to protest to Shepard, but I might have known _that_ would be futile.

Thus when Shepard went off-duty, he found me lying in his bed, wearing nothing but bandages and some light sleepwear, working through a set of datapads. I looked up when I heard the door open, to see him arrive with a tray in his hands.

“Hello, love. Is that dinner?”

“Yes, it is. I had a sandwich a couple of hours ago, but I stopped by the galley and picked up one of your favorites.”

I caught the aroma of garlic and meat sauce, and smiled. “Spaghetti and meatballs!”

“Plus _two_ pieces of fresh garlic bread. Think you can make it to the desk? Spaghetti isn’t the kind of thing it’s safe to eat in bed.”

“True.” I got up, still a little stiff and sore, but mobile. “It’s a good thought. My stomach has been growling for hours, but I didn’t want to risk the wrath of Dr. Chakwas by going down to the crew mess. She can see anyone sitting out there through her office window, you know.”

“Not to worry.” Shepard chuckled. “Mordin chased her out of sickbay entirely once you were patched up. He and Eve are set up in there for now.”

_“Eve?”_

“She’s apparently a shaman, and they don’t give out their names, so we needed _something_ to call her. It’s Mordin’s idea. If this works, she’s going to be the mother to her whole species.”

I remembered stories Shepard had told me from his holy book, and nodded. I sat down at his desk and attacked my pasta, sipping from a glass of white wine along the way. He took off his boots and stretched out on the bed in turn, taking a deep breath as he let the day’s tensions slip away.

“Does Mordin believe he can synthesize a cure?” I asked, once the edge had been taken off my appetite.

“It will take time. A week, maybe longer. Mordin has to reconstruct a lot of Maelon Heplorn’s work, and he has to be careful not to hurt Eve while he’s at it.” His eyes closed, Shepard smiled. “He’s pretty confident it can be done.”

“You’re glad to see the possibility of the genophage being cured.”

“Yes, I am.” He opened his eyes to watch me. “I know Wrex pretty well by now. I’ve had a chance to talk to Eve. I’ve talked to some other people too, both krogan and outsiders who know them well. There’s more to the krogan than a pack of bloodthirsty barbarians.”

“I agree . . .” I said, but I still hesitated.

“They went down a bad path thousands of years ago. Before they could figure out a better way on their own, the Council used them without any thought for the consequences. Then they suffered through centuries of the genophage, until they lost all hope for the future.” He smiled at me, but his eyes were very determined. “They’ve paid in blood and pain for any mistakes they’ve made. They deserve a chance to find out what more they can be.”

I crossed the room to sit down on the bed at his side. Almost without my will, my hand reached out to caress the side of his face. “William Allen Shepard, do you know why I love you?”

“Let me count the ways,” he said, amused.

I snorted in exasperation. “You’re a fine diplomat, you’re a fiercely determined warrior, but you also have compassion enough for whole worlds. I’m fortunate beyond words that you’ve chosen to share your life with me.”

He captured my hand, pressed a kiss into the palm. A kiss to his forehead in return, and then I went back to the desk to finish my meal.

“Liara, there was something else I wondered about.”

“The data I stopped to download in the middle of our battle,” I guessed.

“Right. What was up with that?”

I took a sip of my wine and sighed. “A very nasty suspicion. One which I’ve already confirmed.”

“Something to do with the yahg, I’ll bet. It gave _me_ a bad turn when I saw those creatures in STG custody. I can only imagine how you felt about it.”

“Yes. It’s all in that datapad there, by your right foot.”

He grumbled a little at having to shift positions, but he reached out for the specified device and brought it up for closer examination. That lasted only a few moments. _“Argh._ I’m not up to parsing through gigabytes of salarian scientific reporting right now. Executive summary?”

“The salarians have _already_ decided to uplift the yahg, the same way they did the krogan all those centuries ago.”

He stared at me, his blue eyes gone glacial.

“The only thing that’s halted the project is the Reaper invasion,” I told him. “For now we have bigger problems to worry about. If we manage to survive the Reapers . . .”

“Then we may have yet another war to look forward to,” he growled. “Any indication as to the targets the salarians have in mind?”

“Yes. The krogan, of course. The Batarian Hegemony. Various Terminus warlords.” I paused, knowing he could anticipate what came next. “The Alliance.”

He nodded, his suspicions confirmed.

“Shepard . . .”

“I know. We need to keep this information buried for the time being. Bad enough that _dalatrass_ Linron isn’t playing ball. This would split the Citadel Council wide open, might even cost us what little salarian support we have.” Very carefully, his rage under tight control, he dropped the datapad on the bed. For a moment I had an image of the device shattering against the far wall of the cabin. “Liara, I want you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“If we beat the Reapers, I want you to make _absolutely sure_ this information gets to the right people. Much as I’ve come to like a lot of individual salarians, I have damn well had _enough_ of their government and its schemes.”

“I promise. Shepard, I should point out that all of the salarians you know well are male. Apolitical. Soldiers and scientists without an agenda of their own. It’s the _dalatrass_ who give the orders.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged, letting his anger fade. “I’m not sure it matters. Mordin is as independent a salarian as I’ve ever met, and even he was perfectly okay with _just following orders_ for most of his life. In the end, I don’t much care where the problem lies. If the _dalatrass_ decide on a power grab, if they decide to release _yahg_ on the rest of us, then someone is going to have to put them down. Hard.”

I nodded in agreement.

Ironic, that by the time the issue arose, Shepard had long since gone. At least those of us who remembered him were able to take action as he would have wished.


	16. Interview

**_26 April 2186, Utukku Orbit_ **

“Let’s begin. Your name?”

Silence. Four hot yellow eyes stared at me from across the table. I waited patiently.

_“Rrrh,”_ he growled at last. “You speak Prothean with an abominable accent, asari. Under the Unity, even the meanest of our servitor races would have taken pride in speaking more clearly.”

“I didn’t have the dubious benefit of the Unity’s instruction. Deal with it. _Your name.”_

“Javik Taran. The custom is to use only the outer name except among intimates. To you I am Javik.”

“Service and rank?”

“Arm of the Unity. Extraordinary Forces. Commander First Class. Decorated seven times for valor in battle. Your _Shepard_ is a fool, to leave me idle on board while he goes down to the surface to fight.”

“Shepard will call you to fight when he believes you are ready, and when he is certain he can trust you. What was the span of control associated with your rank, within the Arm of the Unity?”

“It varied. A typical Commander First Class might lead perhaps two thousand soldiers in the field. As a member of Extraordinary Forces, I led smaller units, but of elite quality. I spent several years in command of a cruiser, like this _Normandy_ but somewhat larger.”

_Roughly equivalent to a colonel in most human military organizations, a captain in the Alliance Navy, or a major in the Alliance Marines_ , I noted on my datapad.

“You were not a general officer, then.”

“No. So late in our war against the Reapers, the Arm of the Unity had shattered. Few general officers survived. We learned to fight in small units, independent of any central command. Unorthodox strategy. Innovative tactics.” He took a deep breath. “It was of no use. No matter what we tried, it only delayed our fate.”

“Your Unity didn’t approve of _innovative_ tactics?”

“In the great days of the Unity, command was highly centralized. Officers in the field were expected to follow the established doctrine, worked out over centuries of successful conquest.”

“I imagine that doctrine wasn’t very effective against the Reapers.”

“It was not. The Reapers applied an extreme form of natural selection. Those who could adapt and exercise initiative, survived. Those who could not, died. By the time I rose to command, no one remained to insist on the old ways.” A grim smile. “I developed a reputation for low cunning on the battlefield. It was said of me that I did not fight fairly. Understand, asari, that this was _praise.”_

“I understand.” I turned to another subject. “What was your mission on Takenu?”

“The extinction was nearly complete. The Reapers marched to destroy the last of our people.” He looked down at the table, reliving painful memories. “Takenu stood isolated, far from the centers of Reaper activity. We hoped to conceal a remnant of our people, some of our best and strongest, hidden away until the Reapers returned to dark space. Then we would rise, a million strong, the seed of a new Unity.”

“You led this project?”

“I was the military commander, chosen to lead our people into the next cycle.”

“That must have been quite a heavy responsibility, for a Commander First Class.”

_“Rrrh._ No one of higher rank remained available. Most of those selected for the project were civilians in any case. Farmers, machinists, engineers, scientists.”

“They all were prepared to defer to you?”

“Yes.” He stared at me. “Civilians must defer to the Arm of the Unity. Is it not so among your peoples?”

“It depends. We can discuss the social structures of this cycle later. So the military held authority in your society?”

“Yes.”

“Was that always the case? Or was it the result of your war against the Reapers?”

“It was always the case. Every class in our society served the Unity. We built our empire upon conquest, from the very beginning.”

“Conquest of whom?”

“The subservient species. One by one, we encountered them as we expanded into the galaxy. One by one, we conquered them and made them part of the Unity. Over time, most of them accepted our culture and became valued members of our society. If they could not or would not, they perished.”

“You never considered permitting them to live on their own? Inviting them to be your allies?”

“What would be the point? Power is not a thing that can be shared. One rules, or one submits. Nature demands that the strong dominate the weak, that all may flourish together. If conquest and assimilation are possible, it is a violation of duty and reason to refrain. If any of the other species had proven stronger than the Unity, we would have submitted. None did. Until the Reapers came.”

I frowned slightly, trying to conceal the abandonment of decades of fond illusion.

_The Protheans are not at all what I expected._ _All those vast cities and soaring spires, all that brilliance in engineering and the sciences, all of it nothing but a façade covering brute force._

_For millennia, ever since we discovered their existence, we asari have aspired to emulate them._

_That may have been a serious mistake._

I decided to deviate from my script for a moment. “Where did the primitive species fall into this scheme?”

Javik cocked his head. “Which ones?”

“We’re aware that your scientists were observing some of our species before the extinction cycle began. Asari, humans, and hanar at the very least.”

“Yes. The turians as well. Very promising.”

“What were your intentions?”

“At some point you would have been uplifted to join the Unity.”

“I assume we would have been given no choice in the matter.”

“No.”

“So what happened?”

Javik cocked his head at me. “Clarify.”

“None of those projects reached completion. You partially uplifted the hanar, but not so far as to give them a high-technology civilization. As far as we know, your people never moved beyond observing asari or humans.”

I saw a gleam in his many eyes, one I couldn’t guess how to interpret. “What do you think, asari? The Reapers happened.”

“You abandoned the projects to fight the Reapers?”

“Of course. When we first began to observe you, we already knew the extinction cycle existed but we did not know its cause. Nor did we know how long it would be before the next cycle began. We hoped to have plenty of time to bring you into our civilization. When the Reapers appeared, we saw it was too late. We also saw that the Reapers ignored primitives. We left you alone so that you would have a chance to grow strong before the next cycle.” His eyes narrowed to slits of yellow flame. “A pity you did not make better use of the opportunity.”

“Excuse me?”

“I have been reading your _extranet_. A primitive form of communication and data archival, but simple enough to interpret. Your _Citadel Council,_ it is a hollow joke compared to our Unity. You stand weak and divided. The Reapers will devour you in a fraction of the time they needed for us.”

“You will notice that we are still fighting.”

“Badly. _Rrrh._ At least you have not given up. That is good. I only wish you had not wasted the time we purchased for you with our blood and pain.” He shrugged, shifted his position in his chair. “Never mind. You have more questions?”

I tapped at my datapad, taking a few notes, gathering my thoughts before I moved on to the next subject on my list. “Yes. Let’s discuss the Crucible.”

“I know very little about that project.”

“Perhaps. Any small recollection might be critical, as we try to reconstruct what your people hoped to accomplish.”

He made a nod of grudging approval. “True.”

“I’ve read inscriptions that ascribed the Crucible to information you inherited from your own predecessors. The _inusannon_.”

“That is what I was told.”

“Do you have any idea where they got it?”

“No.” He paused to think. “I heard a rumor once. The _inusannon_ were said to have learned something from the ones who came before them, the _kerrach_. A vulnerability in the Reapers, plans for a device that could exploit that weakness. Whether this was the same as our Crucible, I do not know.”

“So the Crucible might have been handed down, somehow, from one cycle to the next.”

“Possibly. Scraps of information, a few artifacts, these things may survive even the Reapers. Especially if someone makes an effort to preserve knowledge for the future.”

I stared at him, while the idea crashed into my mind.

_I’m an archaeologist. I understand how artifacts survive over long periods of time. I have access to vast quantities of information. Everything we’ve learned about galactic history, about the Reapers. Could I compile the most important of it, and preserve it as he suggests?_

I made a note to investigate the idea further, and then moved on.

“Do you understand the Crucible’s _function?_ Our scientists and engineers have looked at the blueprints, we have begun to build the device, but we are at a loss to _understand_ it. It appears designed to gather and direct vast quantities of energy, but we see no targeting mechanism, no way to focus that energy for destructive purposes. It looks nothing like any weapon we have seen before.”

“Yes. I have been examining the blueprints as well, asari, and I concur. It is very strange.”

“You’re more familiar with the Unity’s technical base than any of us, especially in the field of weapons technology. Do you have any ideas?”

_“Rrrh.”_ Javik worked with the computer controls at his side of the table, calling up an image of the Crucible between us. “Remember that the Unity may have inherited the Crucible design from previous cycles. These plans do show some of our influence, but many elements of the design appear foreign. They may indicate a different approach to engineering. Perhaps even a different approach to the foundations of physical science.”

“Is that possible?”

“Certainly. The cosmos remains the same for all, unalterable, but every species interprets its perceptions of the cosmos in a different manner.” He leaned close, examining the image carefully. “Even so, some things should remain invariant. Perhaps this is _not_ a weapon in any sense you or I would recognize.”

“What do you think it is?”

“A communications device. Designed to deliver information, not raw force.”

I looked at the blueprints, and wished I had more expertise in large-scale engineering. For a moment I almost thought I could see what he described, but then it was gone. “How could a _communications device_ defeat the Reapers?”

“The Reapers are machines, are they not? Terrible, vastly intelligent, and yet only machines. Machines may be programmed to carry out a function with great single-mindedness. Change the program, and you change the behavior. Possibly you cause the machine to break down entirely.”

“You’re suggesting that the Reapers might be _hacked?”_

“I suggest nothing, asari. You asked my opinion.”

“Hmm. Does the term _Catalyst_ mean anything to you?”

“Not in this context. Clearly that was the component my people failed to fully understand.”

I sighed. “If the designs are incomplete and your Unity failed to finish them, I don’t see how we can succeed. We must simply keep trying, I suppose.”

“That is all that can ever be done, asari. All striving is completed only by death.”

_How very Prothean of you_ , I thought to myself. “I think that’s all for this session, Javik. Thank you for your cooperation.”

“So what will you report of me to your mate?”

I stared at him. “I never told you I was mated to Commander Shepard.”

“You didn’t have to. Your pheromones did.”

“I see.” I considered for a moment. “If I understand you correctly, you’re mostly concerned with whether I will advise Shepard to invite you onto the ground team.”

“I am of no use sitting here in the cargo hold.”

“You’ve been of considerable use to _me_. Still, I believe I will recommend that you join the mission squad. My main concern was whether or not you can be trusted.”

“I have no reason to betray any of you. All of my motivations are fifty thousand years dead, except one: to see the Reapers destroyed.”

“Unless you are indoctrinated.”

That brought him up short. His eyes blazed at me for a moment, but then he nodded slowly. “Yes. Where the Reapers are involved, this is always a concern.”

“You faced indoctrination in your war?”

“Yes.” Suddenly he could not meet my gaze. “Before my final assignment to the project on Takenu . . .”

I watched him, my face carefully blank, waiting patiently.

“I had a command of my own. A fast cruiser, ideal for hit-and-run raids, missions deep into Reaper-controlled space. Much like this _Normandy_. I suppose your Commander Shepard is an officer much as I was then. I had my own team, drawn from all the races of the Unity, the best and the strongest I could find. We fought many battles together, against the Reapers and their slaves. We even convinced ourselves that some of those battles were victories.

“Then it all came to an end. Reaper forces ambushed us. They captured my ship, and all of my team. Only I escaped, thinking never to see any of them again. I was wrong. I saw all of them again. They had become indoctrinated, Reaper slaves, sent out into the galaxy to hunt me down.”

I wanted to reach across the table and lay my hand on his arm in sympathy. I repressed the urge.

“Do you know what I did, asari?” Javik drew his combat knife and laid it on the table between us. “I hunted them down instead. All my former comrades. I killed them with my own hands. Some of them with this very knife.”

“I understand,” I said quietly.

“Do you, asari? Do you truly understand?”

“The first victim of indoctrination I ever saw was my own mother,” I told him. “I was there when we had to kill her, three years ago on Noveria.”

He stared at me for a long moment. “I apologize, asari. Perhaps you _do_ understand after all.”

“I don’t pretend that any of us can match what you have lost,” I told him. “But don’t make the mistake of assuming we’ve had no price of our own to pay.”

_“Rrrh._ I am properly rebuked. Although I fear your losses may equal mine, before this is over.”

“I’m not keeping score.”

“Wise.” He reached out, recovered his combat knife and replaced it in its sheath. “If you have finished for today, asari, I have some questions for you.”

“I suppose that’s fair enough. What do you want to know?”

“I want to know if your Commander Shepard can do what must be done to win this war.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Would you trust any answer I gave you?”

“That depends on you. You are his mate, and I would expect you to be loyal to him. You are also his spymaster. You deal in information, seeking out the truth that leads to victory. You cannot afford to lie to yourself, asari, and I will know at once if you lie to me.”

“Shepard is a superb soldier. He has great courage and determination.”

“This I already know. Were he under my command, I would trust him to carry out any order I gave, even at the cost of his life. Unfortunately, _I_ am under _his_ command, and I suspect he has crippled himself.”

“In what way?”

“He trusts those who do not merit his trust. He wastes time in negotiation, when he should be forcing others to obey his will. He wastes more time assisting the weak, when he should be casting them aside or using them in pursuit of his true mission.” Javik shrugged. “I do not doubt his personal skill in the art of warfare, but if he will not use that skill when it is needed, he is doomed to failure.”

“I disagree. Under his leadership we have already defeated the Reapers three times.”

“No. You have not defeated them even _once_. At most, you have delayed them by a few years. Now they are _here_. The methods your Shepard used before simply _will not work_ against this enemy, now that they have brought all of their might to bear.”

I frowned and said nothing.

“I know more about you than you realize. Unlike your mate, _you_ have lied, stolen, betrayed, killed in cold blood, all to carry out your mission. _You_ are willing to do what must be done.”

“How do you know anything about me?” I demanded, damning the quiver that crept into my voice.

“The things you have experienced, the choices you have made, all of this marks you. Your posture, your speech patterns, your gestures, your scent. I have already learned much, even without touching you for a deep reading. You are like some I once knew who served the Shadow of the Unity. Spies. Dealers in secrets, lies and betrayal.”

I gave him my best aristocratic stare. “I have no regrets.”

“Now you are lying to me. Of course you have regrets. But you need not fear my judgment. I approve. It is your Shepard whose naïveté I fear.”

“Hmm.” I rose from the table, picking up my datapads as an excuse not to hold his fierce yellow gaze. “I understand, but I think you are underestimating Commander Shepard. After all that he has done, all that he has suffered, he does _not_ act as he does out of naïveté.”

“Then what drives him?”

For an instant, I had no answer that he would understand. Then it came to me, and I could meet Javik’s stare once more. “Conviction,” I told him. “Despite all evidence to the contrary, he believes that if he gives all he has, if he can persuade and lead others to do the same, then _that will be enough.”_

_“Rrrh.”_ Javik growled, shaking his head. “Some would call that delusion.”

“Perhaps. I plan to reserve judgment, until we see the final outcome.” I gave in to a moment’s temptation toward cruelty. “After all, Commander First Class Javik Taran, of the Arm of the Unity, you _lost_ your war. Ours is not yet decided.”

“That is true,” he said, and I heard only a trace of resentment in his voice. “I hope your faith is not misplaced.”


	17. Raising the Stakes

Days passed.

I healed. I directed my network, sending ships and agents to snatch critical information and technology out of the Reapers’ grasp. I worked with my scientific colleagues across the galaxy, helping to translate and interpret Prothean texts. I interrogated Javik for hours, pulling memories out of the last Prothean’s mind, searching for any small hint that might be of use.

Shepard fought a number of battles without me, on Utukku, Benning, and Sanctum. His luck held. He never returned with serious injuries, only minor bruises and scrapes that Dr. Chakwas treated without difficulty. Every evening I met him in our shared cabin, heard the story of his latest engagement, and shared his memories if he felt energetic enough for intimate contact. He usually did. The constant fighting, the constant worry over Earth, all of it wore him down. Yet, for a time, he seemed to draw upon an inexhaustible fund of strength and determination.

Then Mordin announced that he neared completion of his task. A cure for the genophage would be ready in only a few days.

 _Normandy_ crossed the mass-relay network into the Krogan Demilitarized Zone, taking up a high orbit over Tuchanka.

Everything changed.

Until that time I had never been to Tuchanka, but I had Shepard’s memories from his previous visit eight months before. Venturing into the midst of hostile krogan, vicious wildlife, and the rigors of survival on a very hostile planet, Shepard had come away victorious but exhausted.

Now conditions had become far worse.

As Wrex reported, Reaper forces had already landed on the planet: twisted rachni _ravagers_ , corrupted turian _marauders_ , and once-human _husks_ by the thousand. They harassed the krogan, especially in the regions held by Clan Urdnot and its allies. Defeated krogan disappeared for a time, only to return as monstrous _brutes,_ forming the core of an ever-growing force of Reaper shock troops.

We also found Cerberus had reached Tuchanka before us, hoping to wreck the new alliance before it could begin. While the Reapers seemed to attack at random, Cerberus struck with calculating precision. _Normandy_ fought three engagements against Cerberus ships in orbit, while Shepard took his team down several times to stop the renegade humans on the surface.

There my bondmate took his first serious wound, not of the body, but of the spirit.

I never had the chance to meet Lieutenant Tarquin Victus, the Primarch’s only son, ill-fated commander of the Ninth Platoon. He remained on Tuchanka the whole time, and I did not go down to the surface myself until after he was killed in action. Shepard, on the other hand, worked closely with him for three days.

Afterward, in his memories, I saw how deeply Shepard came to care for that chance-met young comrade. Shepard rescued him from a fatal mistake. Mentored him, as he fought to regain command and the respect of his men. Fought at his side, against Reapers and Cerberus alike. Took part in the same desperate rush to disarm a turian planet-buster before it could lay waste to half of Tuchanka.

Shepard stood close by, helpless to intervene, when Lieutenant Victus sacrificed his life for the sake of the krogan people.

Later, my husband lost his temper in the war room, _raging_ at Primarch and warlord alike, shaming them both into letting go of their disputes and mutual mistrust. He was grim and taciturn for the rest of that day. In the evening he had no interest in making love, a rare event for him. Instead he lay on his back with me tucked under the curve of one arm, staring at the ceiling for long hours, until sleep finally claimed him.

War is a terrible and ugly business, and yet some call it glorious. I think they forget the blood, the sweat, the filth, the destruction, the terrible pain and suffering. What they remember, after the worst is long over, is the comradeship. The loyalty of soldiers on the field, who must rely on one another absolutely or perish. The admiration for others who face terrible odds, and yet manage to pull victory out of the jaws of defeat. A bond is there, not _eros,_ but a form of _philia_ that can spring into existence very quickly under the stress of the battlefield.

Shepard had become very fond of Tarquin Victus. It wounded him deeply to see the young turian die. Almost as deeply as the death of Kaidan Alenko, three years before.

No tragedy is entirely without an associated good. Commiserating over the young turian officer’s death, Shepard and the Primarch became close friends for the first time.

Even so, it was a very forbidding Shepard who entered the war room, on the day we at last were ready to cure the genophage.

* * *

**_4 May 2186, Tuchanka Orbit_ **

“All right, what is this, blocking our approach to the Shroud?”

“New form of Reaper, Shepard,” said Mordin. “Smaller. Apparently specialized for combat operations, not harvesting procedure. Using Shroud to poison Tuchanka’s atmosphere. Problematic.”

Wrex growled. “They want a fight, they just got one!”

I watched Shepard as he examined the map projected before us: the terrain, the weather conditions, the current positions of Reaper and krogan units on the ground, the available inventory of Alliance and turian forces in orbit. After a full minute, he nodded decisively and turned to his right. “Primarch, we’re going to need your help.”

“That won’t be easy,” said Victus. “Our losses on Palaven have been catastrophic. I’m under pressure from home to pull our expeditionary force out of the Krogan DMZ.”

“We’re doing this _for_ Palaven,” Shepard said firmly. “No one ever said any of this was going to come without a cost.”

“True. What do you have in mind?”

“A combined attack.” Shepard manipulated his controls, placing more units on the map, with arrows to indicate movement and engagement. “Your people hit the Reaper from above with an airstrike. At the same time, the krogan attack from the ground with Alliance and turian support, using this built-up terrain as cover. Together, you can draw the Reaper away from the Shroud facility long enough for us to disperse the genophage cure.”

Mordin nodded in agreement. “Yes. Distraction. Small team can reach Shroud facility, finish synthesizing cure. Will need Eve to come with us.”

“Primarch, your opinion?”

Victus nodded slowly. “There’s a great deal of risk, but if the plan succeeds . . .”

“Then the alliance we’re trying to build stands,” said Wrex.

“Yes. I’ll arrange for air support.”

I listened quietly for several minutes, while the military professionals in the room discussed deployments, timing, coordination, logistics. Even an amateur like me could appreciate the sheer speed with which the group fleshed out Shepard’s plan.

“All right,” said Shepard at last. “EDI, get everyone on deck for this one. James is to lead the Marine contingent. Primarch, I suggest that Garrus take command of the Ninth Platoon. Those units can land _here_ , rendezvous with the main krogan ground force, and support their attack.”

“I concur. _Propraetor_ Vakarian, are you prepared?”

Garrus made a very crisp salute. “Yes, sir!”

“I think my son would have been proud to see his men under your command for this mission. The honor of the Turian Hierarchy rests on your shoulders today.”

Garrus nodded. I could almost _see_ his urge to issue some cynical quip, very firmly suppressed.

“EDI, I want you to send your mobile platform along with the ground assault team, for liaison and technical support.”

_“Understood, Commander.”_

“I’ll lead the infiltration team to escort Mordin and Eve to the Shroud. Liara, you and Javik are with me.”

“Hah!” barked Wrex. “Finally bringing your Prothean along? I imagine he knows a thing or two about fighting Reapers.”

“You could say that,” I agreed quietly.

“Everyone has their assignments. Are we ready for this?”

“Is there any doubt?” demanded Wrex, already striding toward the door. “Let’s move, pyjak. It’s time to cure the genophage.”

The krogan’s force of character seemed to gather almost everyone else in his wake. That quickly, a crowd set out to follow Wrex, on their way to the staging bay and their deployment onto the surface of Tuchanka.

Only Shepard remained behind for a moment, studying the holographic map with hooded eyes. I remembered a time early in our campaign against Saren, when he first stepped forward to propose a strategy to officers far senior to himself. A strategy which worked. Now he laid out a plan of battle for two heads of state to follow, for the very highest of stakes. I knew the weight which had just settled squarely on his shoulders.

I almost moved to touch him, to speak to him, but then Samantha Traynor’s voice sounded from the bridge. _“Commander, there’s an incoming message, marked urgent. I’ll put it in the comm room for you.”_

“Where’s it from, Specialist?”

_“Sir, it’s coming from Sur’Kesh.”_

Shepard looked across the room and caught my eye. I nodded, and followed him into the QEC chamber. He stepped up onto the transmission stage. I lurked in the shadows, ready to watch, silent and unseen.

The imaging stage shimmered with blue-white light, forming an image. _Dalatrass_ Linron. I nodded, winning a small bet with myself.

_“Commander Shepard. We know you’ve reached Tuchanka. By now, I imagine Mordin Solus has proposed using the Shroud.”_

_“Dalatrass,_ are you spying on us?”

_“Hardly. If you are determined to follow this disastrous strategy, then the Shroud is the only viable course of action open to you. Commander, I will say it once more: you can’t allow your misguided sympathy for the krogan to cloud your judgment. Do you honestly believe curing the genophage will lead to a lasting peace?”_

“Yes, _dalatrass,_ I do. The krogan deserve a chance to redeem themselves and play a part in the galaxy’s defense. We can’t condemn an entire race to extinction because of something that _might_ happen.”

 _“What_ will _happen is that the krogan will reproduce out of control. We uplifted them specifically for their violent nature, not their diplomatic skills. Another war is inevitable.”_

“Evidence.”

Linron’s image blinked. _“What?”_

“Where is your evidence?”

_“Please. Remember who you are speaking to. I have access to the best sociometricians in the galaxy. Every study they have performed on the krogan . . .”_

“Was done in a context that doesn’t include the Reapers. Or the presence of krogan leaders who understand the mistakes of their past and are ready to push their people in a new direction. Or the possibility that a new relationship between krogan and the rest of the galaxy could be forged on the basis of gratitude and mutual respect.” Shepard cocked his head. _“Dalatrass_ _,_ there’s no getting around it. We need the krogan _now_. Curing the genophage and getting a krogan alliance against the Reapers is worth the risk. My judgment stands.”

_“What if I could offer you a course of action that preserves the krogan alliance against the Reapers, but offers no risk of a new Krogan Rebellion for us to deal with afterward?”_

Shepard hesitated, frowning. Acting on instinct, I opened my omni-tool silently and set it to _record_.

“What do you have in mind, _dalatrass?”_

_“Long ago, STG operatives sabotaged the Shroud facility to ensure what you’re planning couldn’t be done. Left to his own devices, Mordin will likely detect this sabotage and repair it. If you ensure that he doesn’t, then the cure’s viability will be altered just enough so that it fails. No one will notice the change.”_

I could see Shepard’s features, carefully controlled, a blank diplomatic mask that revealed nothing. “You mean, _trick_ the krogan?”

_“Let Urdnot Wrex believe for now that you have fulfilled your promise. He need not be any the wiser, so long as this war continues. While the male krogan are away fighting the Reapers, they will not be on Tuchanka attempting to breed. After the Reapers are disposed of, the krogan will be as they were, their numbers reduced still further, posing no threat.”_

Shepard stood absolutely motionless, a sign I could read but that the _dalatrass_ probably could not. “This all depends on Mordin,” he said. “He would never stand for any of it.”

 _“How you deal with Mordin is up to you, Commander.”_ She peered at Shepard, a slight smile on her face, clearly believing her persuasion effective. _“We can provide you our very best scientists to build the Crucible. The support of our fleets. Think about it, Commander. The choice is yours.”_

The salarian leader’s image shimmered and vanished. Shepard stood alone, his head bowed, his right hand clenched into a fist at his side.

I turned off the recording. “Shepard?”

He turned to glance at me. Suddenly I was _very glad_ that I wasn’t _dalatrass_ Linron.

* * *

**_4 May 2186, Urdnot Clan Territory/Tuchanka_ **

The Kodiak shuttle had a roomy passenger compartment, big enough to deploy two whole squads of Marines with all their armor and gear. Today it felt almost crowded, like an emergency at a diplomatic conference. Two humans, two krogan, a salarian, an asari, a _Prothean_ . . .

“I’ve ordered the clans to assemble at the Hollows,” said Wrex.

Shepard nodded. “I remember you telling me about the place, while we were chasing Saren.”

“It’s a natural mustering point. From there our forces can set out for the Shroud, and the Reaper.” Wrex seemed to grow, standing taller than I had ever seen him, his head held high with pride. “This will be the defining moment of krogan history.”

“Krogan history full of defining moments,” observed Mordin. “Most bloody. Hope this one better.”

Wrex snorted, and turned to sit down for the rest of the descent to the surface.

“Commander?” Eve peered at Shepard across the shuttle’s cabin. “You seem troubled.”

I blinked in surprise.

_I know how to read him because human body language isn’t that different from asari, and because we asari are very good at reading others in any case. How did a krogan manage to detect it?_

Shepard shook his head, but not in disagreement. “I got a message, from the . . .”

The shuttle jolted, _hard_. All of us had to grab for something and hold on.

“Cortez?”

“Reaper ack-ack from the ground, Commander. Not much, just enough to force me to evade. Looks like the landing zone may be hot.”

Wrex had a hand up to the side of his head, listening to a radio transmission. “The Reapers are already at the Hollows. We’d better be ready to come out with guns blazing!”

“Take us in, Lieutenant!”

“Aye-aye, Commander. Hang on tight. We’re almost there, and I’m going to land us fast.”

Cortez was as good as his word. Moments later the shuttle dropped below the AA fire, the ride smoothed out, and we could stand and prepare our weapons.

Wrex opened the hatch just before we touched down. A husk stood just outside. It howled and turned to charge at us, and Wrex blew its head off with his shotgun. We could hear more of them, not far away. _Many_ more.

“At last,” growled Javik, his grip tight on his ancient beam rifle.

Wrex jumped out of the shuttle, glancing to all sides to take in the situation. “Shepard, keep them away from the female! I’ll sort out what’s happening with the other clans.”

Then the krogan warlord went running, and Shepard led us into battle.

I didn’t have time to get much of a first impression of Tuchanka. Ancient stone and concrete rose on all sides, worn down by time, shattered girders and metal mesh standing out like exposed teeth. Shepard led us down a short ramp, through an enormous steel door, and into the great open space of the Hollows. Once this must have been a huge amphitheater, but now it apparently served as a burial place for the honored krogan dead. Krogan bones scattered thickly across the floor and up into several broken rows of seating, the skulls in particular set in places of honor in the open air. Only a great dais in the center of the space stood clear of bones, apparently some kind of ceremonial platform.

Now krogan fought desperately against husks on all sides, some of them already horribly injured and covered with blood, turning the already-grotesque place into a foretaste of hell.

Husks turned, saw us at the top of our ramp, charged us by the score.

 _The Reapers must have gotten word of our attack_ , I had a bare instant to think. Then, with the others, I had to fight for my life.

“Everyone pick your targets and keep an eye on our six!” commanded Shepard. “Now _move!”_

“Asari! Take notice!” Javik made a gesture, a _green_ -white corona springing into being around his shoulders and arms. Then some kind of biotic effect, one I had never seen before, rushed down to swallow three of the leading husks. It _clung_ to them, slowing their movements, eating away at them from the surface inward.

Instinctively I called up a biotic warp and sent it down after . . . whatever it was the Prothean had done.

 _Wham!_ My warp detonated his effect, as if it had been an ordinary pull-field or a singularity, scattering husks far and wide.

“Good job,” muttered Shepard, just before he blurred and vanished into a soaring flash-charge. Right into the middle of the momentary hole that Javik and I had opened in the crowd of husks. Then he set off a _nova_ , his shout and the crash of the explosion echoing off the distant roof like the sound of imminent thunder. Husks and ancient bones scattered broken to the four quarters.

Then he did it again.

And _again_.

The husks tried to swarm him, but he never stayed in one place long enough for them to crowd close. Every time he charged, it was like lightning striking in their midst. The crash of his shotgun, smashing husks that didn’t quite fall within the blast radius of his charge, seemed almost an afterthought.

_Goddess, how is he maintaining that level of biotic output?_

_“Shepard, this is Wrex. It’s getting ugly over here. Whatever you do, keep them away from the female!”_

Javik and I hadn’t had any chance to drill together – something I knew we would have to remedy – so we were clumsy at first. I missed the smooth partnership I enjoyed with Shepard, or with Kaidan. Still, it didn’t take us long to work out our timing. The Prothean deployed his weird green-glowing miasma over a clump of husks, and then I detonated it with a warp field to shatter the enemy into gory shreds. In between, we both advanced slowly and kept up a steady stream of weapons fire into the enemy’s seething mass. We concentrated on picking off husks that evaded Shepard’s charges, preventing them from climbing the ramp to reach our shuttle. Protecting Eve.

In my few free moments, I found myself admiring Javik’s skill in combat. At once, he recognized that the husks had no ability to attack at range, so he didn’t bother to look for cover, instead moving freely across the broken ground. Without having to discuss the matter, he immediately divided the battlefield with me – watching his quarter, trusting me to watch mine, and cutting down every target he saw with grim efficiency. I could see him prioritize his targets from moment to moment, exhibiting situational awareness to match anything I had seen from Shepard.

Shepard, of course, served as a living bomb. He mowed husks down by the dozen. Javik and I may have destroyed twenty or thirty husks in that battle. I suspect Shepard destroyed over a hundred.

It seemed to take forever, but in truth it probably lasted no more than five or six minutes. Finally the mass of husks thinned out, the surviving krogan able to deal with their last few foes. Shepard, Javik, and I assembled at the foot of the ramp once more. Shepard looked tired, as well he might, given the sheer power he had just finished exerting. I felt the need for a short rest and an energy bar myself.

Javik, on the other hand, _grinned_. “A good fight, Commander. Even before a lavish meal, one always enjoys the appetizer.”

“That must be your first time in fifty thousand years,” Shepard observed with a weary smile. “These husks seem familiar to you?”

“The Reapers used similar creatures in my cycle. Not precisely like these. They appear to be corrupted humans?”

“Yes.”

 _“Rrrh._ I am glad you do not permit that to hold you back, Commander. Once the Reapers have worked their will, nothing remains. They are already dead. All that remains is to enforce that status upon them.”

“We’ve fought them before. More times than I care to count.”

“Very effectively, I see. Your biotic abilities are most impressive. As are yours, asari.”

_Goddess help us, he’s being positively magnanimous. If all it takes is for him to be thrown into a battle, I hope Shepard does it often._

The door where we had entered the Hollows banged open. A dozen krogan came pacing down the ramp, all of them with Urdnot clan markings. Wrex led them, absolutely _covered_ in blood, although apparently little of it was his.

“They’ll sing battle songs about this someday!” he shouted. “Reaper blood has finally soaked our soil.”

Krogan gathered down on the floor of the Hollows, coming down the ramp, climbing down from the seating, all roaring in vigorous agreement. Thirty of them. Sixty. I found myself surrounded by more excited krogan than I had ever before seen in my life. Their scent, and the smell of blood and dead husks, was overpowering.

Shepard hurried to meet Wrex. “We have to get moving. We’re behind schedule, and that airstrike is on its way.”

Mordin appeared at the back of Wrex’s group, eager to report. “Female krogan safe, Shepard. Vitals are strong.”

 _“What’s a salarian doing here?”_ someone bellowed.

I turned to watch the newcomer, walking at the head of a dozen Blood Pack krogan, all pale face, brown crest, and burning red eyes. I thought I saw a resemblance to Wrex, although the newcomer lacked our friend’s extensive network of scars.

“Nobody said anything about this!” he shouted, staring at Mordin with naked hostility.

“Multiple hostile krogan,” muttered the salarian. “Problematic.”

“Who are you?” demanded Shepard.

“Urdnot Wreav,” snarled the newcomer. “Brood-brother to our _illustrious_ leader.”

Wrex grunted in disgust, while the krogan at his back growled. “Wreav and I share the same mother. And nothing else.”

“For which I’m thankful. At least _I_ remember what it is to be true krogan.”

Another round of growling, this time from the krogan at Wreav’s back. I unobtrusively checked my weapon, wondering how long I might survive in the middle of a krogan civil war.

“We flay our enemies alive and drown them in a geyser of their own blood,” Wreav continued. “We don’t invite them into our _homes.”_

Shepard stepped forward, not quite placing himself between the two sides. “This salarian is not your enemy. He’s here to help cure the genophage.”

“His kind _gave_ us the genophage! Why should we trust him?”

Wrex shifted his weight, and then pounced into a ferocious head-butt that rocked his half-brother back on his heels. Much growling and shouting followed from _both_ sides.

“Because I do,” said Wrex, quiet danger in his voice. “And so will you, Wreav.”

Wreav’s tolerance seemed exhausted. As voices on all sides rose to echo off the roof, he snarled and reached behind him for his shotgun. With a great clatter, dozens more followed suit on all sides.

_Oh Goddess . . ._

_“Enough!”_

All of us turned to look up the ramp.

Eve stood there alone, staring down at the fractious crowd of male krogan, her stance one of confidence and pride.

It seemed like magic. Male krogan filled the space, just finished with a terrible fight, all fizzing with hormones of anger and aggression. Yet every one of them immediately lowered his weapons and backed away. Even Wreav and Wrex glanced at each other for an instant, and then stood down from their dominance-postures. All growling and roaring ceased, and a still silence spread. Every single krogan in all that vast space seemed to lean forward, waiting for what Eve had to say.

_One female shaman, speaking a single word, and a battle is ended before it can begin._

I began to realize the sheer power female krogan might wield within their society. I began to hope that the krogan _could_ change their ways, once the genophage no longer remained an issue.

Eve began to stride down the ramp.

“You can stay here and let old wounds fester, as krogan have always done.”

She moved right through the crowd of males, between Wrex and Wreav, never looking to either side, perfectly confident that they would part to let her pass.

“Or you can fight the enemy _you were born to destroy,_ and win a new future for our children.”

She stepped up onto the ceremonial dais, paused for a moment, and then turned to glare at all of her people.

 _“I choose to fight._ Who will join me?”

My bondmate knew a dramatic cue when he heard one. He stepped forward at once, standing directly between Wrex and his half-brother. “I will.”

“And so will I,” growled Wrex, taking command of the situation. “Now hold your heads high like true krogan! There’s a Reaper out there that needs killing!”

Now the growling and roaring began once more, but I could sense a difference. I no longer saw two bands of hostile krogan at odds. Now all of them aligned themselves like iron filings between the poles of a magnet, Wrex at one end of the field, Eve at the other. Standing between their leaders, they unconsciously fell into a cohesive whole, ready to march against a common enemy.

Even Wreav felt it. He looked around, saw which way the wind blew, and gave his half-brother a firm nod to a chorus of growled approval.

Shepard turned and strode away, leading us all up the ramp and out of the Hollows. The first unified krogan army in over a thousand years followed.


	18. The Krogan Legacy

**_4 May 2186, Urdnot Clan Territory/Tuchanka_ **

_“Krogan ground convoy, this is turian wing Artimec. Our flight vector to the Shroud is locked. We’re ten minutes out and counting.”_

“Copy that, Artimec,” said Shepard over his helmet radio. “We’re on our way, trying to make up lost time. James, are you and Garrus in position?”

_“In position and ready to go, Loco. Just give the word.”_

“The word is given. Link up with the krogan and start pressing forward against the Reaper right flank. Be careful, conserve your men, but make lots of noise.”

_“They’ll hear us back in San Diego, I guarantee.”_

“Good. Shepard out.”

Six of us sat crammed into the passenger compartment of a _tomkah,_ rolling along and jostling in our seats every few moments. I opened my omni-tool and examined a map of the terrain. Twenty kilometers behind us lay the Urdnot clan center where we had mustered, located amid the ruins of an ancient krogan military installation. We followed a broken road that meandered generally northward through the ruins and wasteland, gradually descending onto a vast desert plain where the Shroud facility waited for us. We had four or five kilometers to go.

Eve shifted in her seat, glancing across the cabin at Wrex. “Wreav isn’t the only krogan who will want revenge for the genophage, Wrex. You’ll have to find some way to placate them.”

“I’ll demand the Council return some of our old territory,” said the warlord. “Plenty of worlds out there that no one else wants, but still better than Tuchanka. With the genophage cured, we’ll need room to expand. Recapture the glory of the ancients.”

 _“Glory of ancients_ led to Krogan Rebellions,” observed Mordin. “Countless deaths. Creation of genophage. Expansion plan problematic.”

“What were the ancient krogan like?” Shepard wondered.

“Tuchanka wasn’t always a wasteland,” said Eve. “In the old times the krogan were a proud people. We had art, literature, scientific achievements of our own. We had dreams, a future to look forward to.”

“Until salarian interference,” said Mordin bleakly.

“No. Not everything is about _your_ people, Doctor.” Eve’s glance at the old salarian seemed almost indulgent. “We destroyed Tuchanka without any help from outsiders. Advanced technology changed us. Life became too easy. The old challenges once posed by simple survival began to fade away. So we looked for new challenges, and found them in each other. Nuclear war was inevitable.”

Wrex nodded in agreement. “So now our planet is rubble. We’ll need another place to live while we rebuild it.”

“I’d say helping to defeat the Reapers would be worth a new planet,” said Shepard with a smile.

“Or ten,” said Wrex with a sly smile. “You haven’t seen how fast we can pop them out.”

“Wrex!” Eve rebuked the warlord.

“What? With the genophage cured, we’ll have a lot of catching up to do.”

Eve only stared at him with narrowed eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Just because we _can_ breed almost as fast as pyjaks doesn’t mean we _have_ to. We want to rebuild Tuchanka, make decent homes for ourselves on some of the old colony worlds. That means we’ll need _enough_ krogan, not _too many_. Enough hands to do the work, not so many mouths that they eat up everything we’ve gained. Enough soldiers to defend ourselves, and help defend the rest of you, not so many that we scare the crap out of everyone again.”

Eve nodded. “Even after we can count on being able to bear living children again, we females will want to limit our reproduction. Our children need to be cared for, taught the ancient wisdom, encouraged to reach for something other than eternal bloody strife. That means fewer children, but greater investment in each. Primitive krogan bred for raw numbers. _Civilized_ krogan will breed for quality of life.”

Shepard glanced at me, his eyes shadowed, and I could tell what he was thinking.

_The salarians never saw this. Because they never looked for it, never moved beyond their own bigotry to guess it could be there._

I gave him a small encouraging nod.

“There’s something you should know,” he said. “Back on _Normandy,_ just before we set out for the surface, _dalatrass_ Linron tried to cut a secret deal with me.”

“What kind of deal?” Wrex demanded.

“She said they sabotaged the Shroud years ago. The cure won’t work unless we fix it. Liara?”

I opened my omni-tool again, and played the conversation I had recorded between Linron and Shepard. The krogan began to frown like looming thunderclouds. Even Eve clearly grew angry.

When it was over, Wrex shook his head in fury. “She thought we wouldn’t know better?”

“Correctly,” stated Mordin. “Would likely have fooled tests. But familiar with STG work. Can adjust. Did not come this far for nothing.”

“You just spared our race another genocide, Commander,” said Eve.

“You didn’t earn the first one, much less another.”

“Perhaps. At the time the other races were right to fear us. We did pose a terrible threat to them.”

“Maybe.” Shepard folded his arms and set his jaw in determination. “Everyone deserves a chance to correct their mistakes, to prove they can change for the better. That’s as true for whole species as it is for individuals.”

“Repentance followed by forgiveness, Commander?”

Shepard caught Eve’s gaze, saw the gleam in her eye, and a slow smile spread across his face. “I suppose you could call it that.”

Wrex grinned at his partner. “I told you we could count on him.”

_Eve understands humans better than anyone realizes. I wonder what kind of extranet research she was doing, all those long hours in the medical bay between Mordin’s procedures. Or perhaps Mordin himself taught her._

Just then, the _tomkah_ began to slow, its brakes squealing on both sides of the passenger compartment.

Wrex stood. “Why are we stopping?”

“Sit tight,” said Shepard. “I’ll get out and see what’s happening.”

As soon as the _tomkah_ came to a complete stop, Shepard popped the side hatch and swung out onto the road. Javik and I checked our weapons and followed him.

Hot, dry air slapped me in the face, full of a flat alkaline taste. I looked out over the land. We had stopped at the edge of some ancient ruins to the east. In the opposite direction I saw two more decayed roadbeds, even less traversable than the one we were on. Then a few snarls of ancient metal, and then nothing but drifting sand and bitter outcroppings of stone to the distant horizon.

The Shroud stood there, unlike anything else I had seen on Tuchanka, clean salarian architecture reaching well over a kilometer into the sky. It gleamed in the dim sunlight, reflecting shades of yellow and sickly green. From it, a vast streamer of poisoned air reached up into the sky, merging at last with a thick bank of clouds that blotted out most of the sunlight.

There, standing close to the Shroud tower, smaller but much more menacing: the insectile shape of a Reaper. It made its mechanical roar, the sound echoing across the desert plain. Small in the distance, I could hear the sound of gunfire. The main krogan force, with humans and turians in support, had collided with the Reaper’s ground units.

“Wrex, you and Mordin stay with Eve,” called Shepard into his helmet comm. “It’s looking ugly out here.”

_“Will do.”_

Shepard strode away, setting out for the head of our convoy to see why we had stopped. Javik and I followed.

“Goddess,” I murmured. “Look at that Reaper. It’s like the end of days out there.”

“That is what the Reapers are,” said Javik. “Wherever they go, there walks the doom even of the gods.”

We reached the front of the convoy. At once I could see the problem. Just ahead of Wrex’s _tomkah_ the road leaped over a declivity in the land, fifty meters straight down to the desert sands. The ancient krogan had once built a bridge over the gap, and their engineering had lasted _almost_ down to the present day. Some recent shock – perhaps even the arrival of the Reaper destroyer, a few kilometers away – had proven fatal. The road remained mostly in place, but it looked broken and loose, a series of tilted slabs, ready to collapse entirely at any moment.

“What’s the holdup?” Shepard demanded.

A krogan scout crouched at the edge of the gap, examining what remained of the bridge. “Road’s out. The convoy can’t make it through.”

Shepard activated his helmet comm. “Turian wing Artimec, we’ve been delayed. Hold off your attack!”

Too late. Even then we heard a roaring from up above, aircraft approaching at high speed. _“Negative, Commander. Our approach vector is locked. That Reaper already knows we’re here.”_

A squadron of turian fighters soared out of the east and overhead, the thunder of their engines shaking the roadbed beneath our feet. They zoomed west toward the Shroud, already beginning to fire on the Reaper.

The enemy responded with another deep roar, and then I heard a new sound for the very first time: the resonant, almost musical tone of a Reaper’s main gun firing into the sky.

“The airstrike is too soon,” said Javik. “We are in no position to move against the Shroud!”

“Damn it.” Shepard scowled, and I knew he saw his carefully laid plan falling to pieces. He turned to the scout, raising his voice to be heard above the din of the distant battle. “I don’t care if we have to build a new road! We’re going!”

Then I saw it. The Reaper’s gun fired, grazing one of the turian fighters. It veered out of control, trailing fire and smoke, heading directly for us. _“Shepard!”_

His eyes flew wide. _“Move!”_

I slammed a barrier down and threw myself flat, just in time for a world-shattering concussion. Flames erupted, singing me even at a distance. I rolled onto my back, in time to see a krogan _tomkah_ arcing through the air, slamming down on its nose in a cacophony of shattered metal, only a few meters away.

_“Shepard, what’s going on out there?”_

“Wrex, get Eve out of here, _now._ Go!”

Wrex’s _tomkah_ immediately leaped into motion, roaring out onto the dangerous span, the slabs of broken road shifting under its weight. A second vehicle followed, but then the bridge collapsed entirely. I looked back along the rest of the convoy, and saw nothing at first but shattered vehicles and dead krogan.

Shepard rose to his feet, already looking around him for cover, some point where he could rally the survivors. “Artimec, do you copy?”

_“We have to abort, Commander. That Reaper is tearing us to pieces!”_

“Understood. Save your pilots. We’ll find another way.”

I looked around, feeling horribly exposed. Then an avenue of escape presented itself. “Shepard, there’s a tunnel over there. Could be a way off.”

“Get to it!”

The three of us hurried, leaping across a wide ditch to reach the entrance to the tunnel. Shepard paused for a moment before we ventured deep inside, calling for any surviving krogan to follow. None did.

“Now what?” I asked him.

“We cannot continue in the open,” said Javik. “Perhaps these tunnels will lead us around the obstacle.”

Shepard nodded, a disgusted expression on his face. “Seems as good an idea as any. We have to link back up with the others, try to find a way to salvage this clusterfuck.”

“Commander, in my cycle we had a saying. No battle plan . . .”

“Survives contact with the enemy,” Shepard interrupted.

 _“Rrrh._ It is good to see that some things do not change.”

“Come on.” Shepard turned, leading us further into the tunnel.

We descended into darkness, turning on the lights attached to our weapons. I activated the inertial guidance system in my omni-tool, so I could construct a map of the spaces we moved through. All around us loomed stone – floor, walls, ceiling, all was natural stone – massive but cleverly shaped and set, clearly capable of standing for thousands of years. Rubble scattered across the floor, clogged niches and side passages. At the bottom of the tunnel we passed through a square doorway, with lifelike krogan statues standing guard on either side.

Shepard activated his helmet comm. “Wrex, are you receiving this? Is everyone okay?”

 _“Yeah, just scratches, nothing the salarian can’t patch up. Wreav’s_ tomkah _made it out too. The rest of the convoy is going to have to pull itself together and follow as best they can.”_

“The turians had to call off the airstrike. We’ll need a new plan for dealing with the Reaper. Can you reach the ground attack force?”

_“Yeah. EDI is relaying messages.”_

“Have them break contact and fall back for the time being. They push forward too far, we’re likely to face defeat in detail.”

_“Agreed. In the meantime, we have to find you. You still with the convoy?”_

“No, we got separated. We’re underground. We see ruins of some kind.”

Eve’s voice: _“Commander, that’s a city of the ancients.”_

“How do we get out?”

_“No maps exist. It’s been abandoned for thousands of years. Even before the nuclear wars.”_

_“You’re a trailblazer, Shepard,”_ said Wrex. _“Get through there, and we’ll find a place to meet up.”_

For a long time we moved slowly through the darkness, clambering over rubble falls and broken flooring. After a while, I began to see hints of a pattern, an ordered layout of streets and enclosures instead of a random maze. Details I had learned at the university, about pre-contact krogan architecture, came to life before my eyes. I began to make suggestions, and those suggestions began to pay off in progress.

The ground shifted under our feet, just enough to notice. A few pebbles fell from above, clattering on the floor.

“What was that?” whispered Shepard.

“A tremor,” said Javik.

“I’m not sure of that,” I told them. “This region of Tuchanka doesn’t see much tectonic activity.”

“How do you know, asari? Are you also an expert in planetology?”

“No, but if this place _was_ subject to frequent quakes, none of these underground passages would have survived across more than four thousand years.”

“Possibly.”

We moved on. A few minutes later, while we walked along a straight corridor, Shepard stopped abruptly to shine his light on the wall beside us. We saw a sudden splash of color in the darkness.

“Now that’s not something I would have expected to see on Tuchanka,” he murmured.

We saw a fresco, painting on plaster that covered the stone of the wall, remarkably well-preserved considering its age. The style seemed highly formalized, all flat geometry with no sense of perspective. Krogan marched in a procession from left to right, each one bearing a gift. At the far right a larger figure stood, wrapped in ceremonial robes and carrying a tall staff, making a gesture of dominance and welcome.

“Apparently the krogan could paint once.”

“Yes. This fits what Eve was telling us about ancient krogan culture. Look here.” I pointed to the procession, my hand moving from left to right across the wall. “Notice how all the krogan carrying objects are male. Each object is different, possibly symbolizing a different clan or nation. Bringing gifts? Or possibly tribute?”

“The big krogan, there on the right?”

“Female. A matriarch, receiving tribute from her vassals?”

“We never hear much about female krogan,” Shepard observed. “I have to wonder what they might be like, once the genophage is cured. If Eve is any indication . . .”

“Commander, we have little time,” said Javik.

“True. Come on.”

We pressed onward. Another tremor shook the floor under our feet. Then another, hard enough to push us off-balance for a moment.

“That didn’t feel like a quake,” I said fearfully. _To be trapped down here . . ._

“Wrex, are you guys feeling these tremors?”

 _“Not up here,”_ said the warlord.

Eve broke into the channel. _“It could be something else, Commander. It is said that Kalros, the mother of all thresher maws, lives in this region.”_

_“Which is another really good reason for you to get your ass out of there, Shepard! Step on it!”_

We clambered up onto a tall rubble pile, used it to cross into another enclosure, possibly an ancient temple.

 _“Kalros, the mother of all thresher maws._ Sounds troubling,” Javik murmured.

I nodded in agreement. “If the krogan _name_ a thresher maw, I suspect it must be something remarkable.”

“Like this?” asked Shepard, a note of awe in his voice.

He had come up to a great wall, apparently the back wall of the enclosure we stood in. He shone his flashlight up the wall, to reveal another fresco: a long, segmented creature, rising in coil after coil to a barbed crown far above our heads. Stylized krogan figures stood on both sides, in attitudes of reverence.

I shook my head in wonder. “Kalros, I presume.”

“Impressive,” said Javik. “I remember thresher maws from my cycle. They were not so large then.”

“How so?” asked Shepard.

“It was possible to ride them.” Javik looked up at the fresco. “I would not want to encounter such a creature.”

“All the more reason to get out of this place,” I said.

Ten more minutes passed. We felt a few more tremors, small ones, as if something massive moved in the earth at a great distance. We lost track of how far we had come, although my omni-tool indicated it had been nearly two kilometers in a straight line. The ancient ruins seemed to go on forever.

Javik was the first to smell something _off_ in the vicinity, a scent of death and corruption. Despite our distaste, we followed air currents toward the smell. We reasoned that if anything living had made its way down into these tunnels to die, it might still lie close to a way out.

When we found the corpse, it made my gorge rise. A twisted heap of bloated flesh, not even remotely asari-like, all black exoskeleton and pink sacs of corruption. Some kind of mechanical weaponry had been fused into its upper body.

“Rachni,” said Javik.

“Are these like the creatures you had to fight on Utukku?” I asked Shepard.

“Yes. The Reapers captured the queen we freed on Noveria. They forced her to bear _children_ to be twisted into this. Living weapons, like miniature artillery pieces.”

“I’m glad you were able to free her. But why are we finding these _ravagers_ here now?”

“Bound to be more than just the ones we killed.” Shepard scanned the corpse with his omni-tool, while I clamped my hand over mouth and nose in a futile attempt to keep out the stench. “Wrex, we’ve got rachni here. Keep an eye out.”

_“Yeah, I know. A few of them just attacked us. Nothing we couldn’t handle.”_

“Commander. Look!”

We stared up into the darkness where Javik pointed. At first I couldn’t see anything, but then Shepard turned off his flashlight. The darkness closed around us, but we also saw a glimmer of light.

“A way out,” said Shepard. “Come on!”

We climbed a long staircase, emerging in a long colonnade that led out to the surface. To one side I could hear water running. In the dim sunlight, the place seemed stark, but quite beautiful.

I took a deep breath, almost enjoying the hot, dry air of the Tuchanka surface. At least it tasted fresh and clean. “I wish I had known more about this place, while I still worked as an archaeologist. I would have loved to come and study these ruins.”

 _“Rrrh,”_ growled Javik. “The remnants of a failed species.”

I glared at the Prothean, but my distaste made no impression on him.

Shepard led us out of the colonnade, onto the edge of what appeared to be a wide plaza. Great buildings rose on all sides, squat and massive, ruined and decaying like the rest of the architecture we had seen that day. I still remained impressed by a culture that could erect such grand edifices, still standing despite nuclear war and thousands of years of neglect.

“Wrex, we made it back outside.”

_“Well, if you can see sunlight, that’s progress.”_

“And green,” I murmured. “I didn’t think this region could support plant life.”

 _“You’re looking at hope,”_ said Eve. _“All that’s left of it here on Tuchanka. This world was once full of beauty. Given a chance, it can be again.”_

_“That’s for tomorrow. Right now that Reaper is still up to no good at the Shroud. Find a way out of there, and we’ll pick you up.”_

“We’re on it,” said Shepard, leading us out into the plaza. “What’s the status of the ground attack force?”

_“Holding their own. The Reaper doesn’t seem interested in killing them, just keeping them at a distance. I can patch you through to Garrus if you want.”_

“Please.”

 _“We’re still here, Shepard,”_ said Garrus. _“Barely engaged, not under any real pressure at the moment. Casualties have been light so far. Though it looks like our original plan is in the bit-bucket. Thoughts?”_

“Keep yourselves alive, and be ready to move again,” Shepard commanded. “Eve’s alive, Mordin’s alive, Wrex and Wreav can still maneuver. We’re not out of the fight yet. If my team can link up with what’s left of the convoy, we can try for the Shroud after all.”

_“Got it. Keep us in the loop. Garrus out.”_

“And when we get there, vengeance will be mine,” said Javik.

“First we have to get there,” said Shepard. “Let’s go.”


	19. Titanomachy

**_4 May 2186, Urdnot Clan Territory/Tuchanka_ **

As we moved through the ancient city, we encountered Reaper patrols, infiltrating ahead of us. We couldn’t be sure whether the Reaper knew about our plans, but it clearly suspected _something_. Most of the Reaper troops were the vicious _cannibals_ , bloated parodies of batarians, each with a human corpse grafted in place of its right arm as the basis of a weapon system. Some cannibal fire-teams had a dozen husks or a brute to send ahead as shock troops. Others had one or two ravagers with them, serving as portable artillery.

To my surprise, we found these battles rather easy to win.

Shepard and I both possessed powerful biotic talents, and we had built a good working partnership on the battlefield. Either of us could telekinetically _pull_ an enemy out of position, or I could lay down a _singularity_ to draw several foes up into the air. We could then detonate these effects with one of my _warps_ , or with Shepard’s devastating _shockwave_. As I had learned years before, working with Kaidan, the results could devastate the enemy as thoroughly as an artillery battery.

At first we couldn’t be certain what to do with Javik. His Prothean biotic techniques seemed quite foreign to the asari or human systems. Even his corona had a strange appearance, livid green rather than crisp, familiar blue. Yet we soon found that his techniques worked quite well with ours.

Like either of us, Javik could wield a biotic pull. He also had a ferocious _slam_ technique which could detonate our pulls or my singularity. Finally, he could paint an enemy with something he called the _dark channel,_ a clinging effect which inflicted terrible damage over time, and which my warp or Shepard’s shockwave could detonate.

Once the three of us had a chance to practice, we found ourselves tearing through Reaper forces in short order. We already knew that husks were fragile in the face of a biotic assault. Cannibals proved not much stronger. Brutes boasted armor and great toughness, but they had no ability to attack at range, and in open ground we usually managed to kill them before they came within charging distance. Ravagers presented a much harder problem, pouring out hellish three-round barrages every few moments. We soon learned to watch their timing, keeping under cover with our heads down during their firing cycle. In between, they seemed to require a short pause to recharge, so that was when we hammered them with weapons fire, grenades, and biotic effects.

Before long, I found myself almost _enjoying_ fighting alongside Javik. He behaved like a cynical, misanthropic troll, but he was also a consummate soldier, and he fit into our fire-team like a fist in a mailed glove.

As we finished one of these short affrays, the ground shook under our feet once more, much harder this time. Whatever we felt had come much closer.

“Kalros is more than a myth!” Javik shouted, as he struggled to keep his feet and tried to stare in all directions.

“Stay sharp!” ordered Shepard.

The chatter of my Shuriken, the low hum of Javik’s ancient beam rifle, the coughing crash of Shepard’s shotgun, the booming roar of biotic detonations. In the end, we drowned out the weird chatter and howl of the Reaper’s slaves.

_“Shepard, how’s it coming?”_ came Wrex’s voice over the comm during a pause between battles.

“We’re making progress, but we’re still in the ruins.”

_“Get a move on. That Reaper hasn’t moved, and the sky is looking worse.”_

Another tremor.

“Wrex, I think you’re right about Kalros. She must be on the move.”

_“Yeah, we’ve got some ideas on that – what?”_

_“Not now, Wrex,”_ said Eve. _“The commander has enough to worry about.”_

“What’s happening?”

_“Some crazy idea we can talk about later. Just worry about getting out of there for now. Your signal shows you’re close to open country again. Keep moving and we’ll pick you up.”_

I saw movement by the far wall of another plaza. “Shepard! Take a breath, because _here they come!”_

“Check back with you in a minute, Wrex,” Shepard said, and then returned to the work of killing.

More cannibals, more husks, and _two_ ravagers. That presented a bit more of a challenge, since the warped rachni warriors could stagger their firing cycles. We improvised, focusing on one enormous bug, then the other.

_“Shepard, looks like you’re just short of a bridge over the sand. We’re less than a minute away. Try to find it, and we’ll pick you up there.”_

“We’re a little preoccupied right now, Wrex!”

_“Didn’t say it would be easy.”_

“I didn’t think Tuchanka could get any worse,” I muttered.

_“It was good enough for your grandfather, Liara. Think about it. A whole planet designed to keep you on your toes!”_

“Your grandfather?” asked Javik, while he cut down a trio of husks with his rifle.

“Apparently he was krogan.”

_“Rrrh._ Asari. It must be very strange, to mate with other species and be capable of bearing offspring as a result.”

I flung a warp across the plaza, rocking a ravager back. “It seems natural enough to us. Wait. How would _you_ know about that aspect of our biology? We didn’t discover it ourselves until we met the salarians.”

Javik only gave me a moment’s four-eyed stare and a wicked grin, before hurling one of his grenades against the enemy.

“Liara!” snapped Shepard. “Eyes on the prize!”

_Did the Protheans do more than_ observe _the primitive asari?_

Then I had no more time to think about it, with a wave of husks bearing down on our position.

Afterward, we emerged from the plaza to find the bridge Wrex had told us about. Here the desert sands washed up against the north edge of the ancient city, with only one more massive building ahead of us. A stone bridge stood over the sand down below, leading out to that last edifice.

Javik pointed out into the desert. “There are the trucks!”

_“Shepard, we’re coming under the bridge. Get down here and we can head for the Shroud.”_

“Will do.” Shepard began to look around for a means of descent.

“ _Wait! Kalros!”_

The trucks slammed into motion, rushing under the bridge in mad flight.

“Wrex?”

_“Break off! We’re getting out of here!”_

_Goddess!_

It looked like a low range of hills, cresting above the sand as it pursued the trucks.

What I saw was segmented, ridged, clearly only a small portion of the creature. The whole must have been well over two hundred meters in length. It sounded like an avalanche in full career, and then it _howled_ in frustrated rage, an enormous, bestial sound that threatened to shatter my aural membranes. The high ridge of its back slammed into the middle section of the bridge, tearing a gap in the road-bed, and then it sped away in pursuit of the trucks.

Mordin’s voice: _“Kalros’s territorial instinct confirmed!”_

_“She’s not going to get us!”_

Shepard stared after the trucks, his eyes momentarily wide with something I had rarely seen in him: _raw terror._ Then he shook his head and it was gone. “Come on, let’s see if we can catch up with them.”

We crossed the bridge at a run, jumping with biotic assistance over the wide gap Kalros had made, and hurried into the large building on the other side. Far to our right we could see Wrex’s _tomkah_ still moving at high speed, the monstrous thresher maw in hot pursuit.

_“Go on ahead, Shepard! We’ll try to shake this thing and find you.”_

_“Thresher maw getting closer!”_ said Mordin.

_“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”_

_“Metal in truck excellent iron supplement for maw’s diet!”_

“This planet is one giant death-trap,” I said.

“The Reapers must feel right at home,” said Javik.

That last building stood largely open to the sky, erected around a deep well guarded by several krogan statues. I could see traces of inscriptions on the walls around us, worn away by time and desert sand.

“I wonder where we are now?”

Javik peered around, and then shrugged. “A memorial of some kind?”

“Heads up!” said Shepard.

I saw another squad of the Reaper’s slaves, this time led by several marauders. These presented more of a challenge, although we found plenty of cover behind massive stonework. We deployed and began our counterattack, using the techniques we had polished back in the ruined city.

_“Shepard! Wrex busy driving truck,”_ said Mordin. _“Are you still alive?”_

“Doing what we can.” Shepard flash-charged across the field, taking out a cluster of husks. “What about you?”

_“Alarmed, yet entertained. Kalros is quite persistent.”_

Javik flung a grenade into the enemy’s midst, scattering a fire-team of cannibals.

_“Wreav, stick close!”_

I moved up to new cover, turning slightly as I went, firing bursts across a wide arc with my Shuriken.

_“Drive faster!”_ Wreav shouted. _“I can smell the damn thing’s breath!”_

Shepard flash-charged into a marauder, knocking it back, and then smashing the center of the enemy formation with a nova-blast. Two blasts from his shotgun finished off two marauders in quick succession.

Javik and I broke from cover and charged forward, laying down gunfire and biotic attacks to both sides. Within moments, the enemy was down.

_“Shepard, we’ve almost lost Kalros! Get down from there and we’ll find you.”_

A long, shallow staircase led down to the sands. A _tomkah_ drove up onto a stone slab at the bottom of the stairs, the hatch popping open for us. A second _tomkah_ remained out on the sand, its gun turret swiveling as its pilot tried to look in every direction at once.

_“Make this quick, Wrex. We’re exposed!”_

“Move it!” snapped Shepard.

We hurried. Shepard paused by the _tomkah_ , motioning for us to hurry, clearly intending to be the last one inside. Javik made it to the hatch, with me only a few steps behind.

A deep rumbling sound. Sand began to geyser up into the sky a short distance away, approaching with terrible speed.

_“It’s Kalros!”_

I half-leaped through the hatch, climbing up into the passenger compartment, Shepard right behind me.

“Move, Shepard!” shouted Wrex from the pilot’s seat.

“We’re in! Go!”

The _tomkah_ slammed into motion, heading the way Kalros had come.

“What about Wreav?” asked Eve.

“His _tomkah_ went down,” Wrex reported. “There’s no way he survived that.”

“I’m sorry, Wrex.”

“Ah, he was a pain in the ass anyway. Now let’s finish this. There’s a Reaper waiting for us.”

* * *

**_4 May 2186, Shroud Facility/Tuchanka_ **

One lonely _tomkah,_ the last remnant of the krogan ground convoy, rolled up beside a stone wall half a kilometer from the base of the Shroud. As we emerged from the vehicle, we heard the Reaper’s bass roar off in the distance.

Shepard activated his comm. “James? Garrus? Anyone on this channel?”

_“We’re here, Loco. Just finished a sharp little fight against those Reaper things. More of them massing in front of us.”_

“What’s your outlook? Any chance you can resume your push?”

_“Maybe. Not sure what good it would do. That Reaper is sticking to the Shroud like a burr, no matter what we try.”_

“All right, stand fast for a moment while we think about this.”

_“Aye-aye.”_

All of us looked toward the Shroud, where the Reaper stood squarely in our path. “We don’t have a plan for this,” I said wearily.

“Vengeance is the goal,” said Javik. “Suicide is not.”

“We’re curing the genophage no matter what it takes,” Wrex growled. “Everything my people will ever be depends on it. Shepard, the krogan are ready to do what needs to be done.”

“Then I hope this idea you were talking about is a good one.”

Wrex grinned and indicated Eve, an odd mix of resentment and pride in his voice. “It was _hers,_ actually.”

“Kalros,” said Eve. “We summon her to the Reaper.”

Shepard raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Would that even work?”

“Already discussed strategy,” said Mordin. “Need to distract Reaper. Airstrike didn’t work. Ground attack didn’t work. Maw possibly big enough, seize Reaper’s attention.”

“What makes you so sure she’ll come?”

“Legends say she is the mother from which all other thresher maws spawn,” said Eve. “This is as much her home as ours. She will fight to defend it.”

Wrex nodded in agreement. “If Tuchanka has a temper, Kalros is it. Nobody’s ever faced her and survived.”

Shepard nodded decisively. “People said the same thing about the Omega-4 Relay. We can do this.”

“That’s the spirit, Shepard.”

“So how do we summon her?”

Eve pointed toward the Reaper, raising her voice over its distant mechanical roar to explain. “The Shroud tower was built in an ancient arena dedicated to the glory of Kalros. The salarians thought she would scare away intruders.”

“Appears to have worked,” said Mordin, peering at his omni-tool. “Queries to Shroud systems are returning nominal status. No sign of external damage.”

“There are two maw hammers in the arena,” Eve continued. “The largest in existence. If you can activate them, Kalros will come. That should distract the Reaper.”

“Meanwhile, laboratory nearby. Will finish synthesizing cure.”

“All right. It’s not a great plan, but it’s the best we’ve got.” Shepard opened his helmet comm once more. “James, I need one more good solid push from the assault force. If they’re massing on your front, that means the Reaper still thinks it needs to worry about you. Encourage it.”

_“Got it. We’re jumping off now.”_

Almost at once, we heard a surge of gunfire in the distance, ahead of us and to the right. The Reaper did not move, showed no sign of being distracted, but I could imagine its ground forces directed to face the krogan attack. At the very least, there might be less for us to face.

“All right,” said Shepard. “We all know why we’re here. Let’s make it happen.”

“Wait,” growled Wrex, stepping forward to loom over Shepard. “I want you to know, no matter what happens, you’ve been a champion of the krogan people, a friend of Clan Urdnot, and a brother to me. From now on, all krogan will know that we _can_ have friends among the other species. To every krogan born after this day, the name _Shepard_ will mean _hero!”_

Shepard said nothing, only smiled warmly and clasped Wrex’s hand.

“Now let’s go show them why!”

“See you all on the other side,” said Shepard.

“Stay alive,” said Mordin. “Will have cure ready.”

We leaped over a low stone wall to begin our run for the Shroud.

Almost at once, Reaper troops deployed before us, falling like meteors from the sky. Cannibals, standing and laying down heavy fire the moment they appeared. Not much of a challenge. We stood our ground and softened them up for a few moments, then Shepard flash-charged forward and shattered their formation with a nova blast.

_“Damn. Bunch of rachni just attacked us. I took care of them.”_ Wrex sounded almost satisfied. _“There’s another complication, though. Someone has to raise those maw hammers before you can use them.”_

“Kind of busy here, Wrex.”

_“Lucky for you I’m here. I can take care of it.”_

We moved to the side, out of the Reaper’s immediate view, up into a massive stone building. For a time we could move forward more quickly, and no more Reaper forces could deploy in front of us. We could hear the vast machine moving, closer and closer as we made progress.

Out onto a stone bridge, and once again we stood in the Reaper’s line of sight.

“At last,” muttered Javik.

“Double-time it, people. We’re exposed here.” Shepard fitted action to words, breaking into a sprint.

Too late. I glanced to our left and saw the Reaper’s firing chamber exposed, a great baleful red light shining out across the landscape.

_It knows we’re here!_

_“Shepard!”_

An enormous tone, almost musical, and the Reaper’s main gun fired. A great blade of ruby light lashed out, slicing down from above mere meters ahead of Shepard, breaking the bridge span in half. The span collapsed in a fall of rubble, and we went with it.

For a moment, I couldn’t think about anything but my own survival. I tucked into a ball, slammed down as strong a barrier as I could, and waited for the fall to smash the life out of me. Then I hit some scattered rubble, which shifted under me and broke my fall. I stirred, rose to my feet, battered but still alive.

Javik leaped from a height next to me, landing on his feet with his rifle already brought to bear. A few meters away I saw Shepard standing once more.

“Everyone all right?” he asked.

“Yes, Commander.”

“I think so,” I said shakily. “Considering we just got shot by a Reaper.”

The ancient machine moved forward, with a noise like explosions in a sheet-metal factory. It made its great roar, trying to drive us into madness and flight.

“Consider that practice,” said Shepard. “No cover up ahead. _Run!”_

_Oh Goddess he’s right there’s nothing to stand in that thing’s way . . ._

I ran. Despite every instinct, _toward_ the Reaper.

It stood close ahead, its legs spread in a strength-stance, its many “eyes” glowing like furnaces, impossibly tall and mighty. The cover over its firing chamber retracted once again. It began to fire at us every few seconds, a musical symphony out of hell, breaking stone and sending rubble flying on all sides. None of us even tried to bring our weapons to bear. It was all we could do to maintain our biotic barriers and _keep running_ through the chaos.

_“Okay, Shepard. I raised the maw hammers for you. You have to activate both of them! My recommendation is to avoid the giant laser!”_

“Sound tactical advice!” shouted Shepard, dry humor audible in his voice despite the sound of the end of the world on all sides. It didn’t cause him to break his stride.

Someone was praying with manic intensity. “Oh Goddess oh Goddess oh Goddess _oh Goddess . . ._ ” It must have been me.

“Hah! I remember this part!” crowed Javik.

_Well, if he’s done this before and survived, maybe I can. Maybe._

We reached a low stone wall, crouched behind it for a moment to catch our breath.

I glanced over the wall, saw the Reaper looming _over_ us, well able to blast us into vapor where we cowered.

Then gunfire streamed _down_ on it, blue-white bolts from behind our position. The Reaper hesitated.

A new sound from overhead, engines roaring as aircraft soared out of the south.

_“Commander, this is Artimec Wing. We’ll try to give that Reaper something else to shoot at.”_

Finally, something our side had done seemed to distract the terrible machine. It slammed its firing chamber closed and began to shift its stance, recoiling from the turian assault.

“Goddess, be with them,” I prayed.

“Go!” Shepard shouted. “Let’s push ahead!”

We vaulted the stone wall and ran forward once more.

_Slam! Slam!_ More meteoric bursts of red flame, as new Reaper forces were deployed in our path.

  1. One of them. Two. Three. _Six._



Shepard never hesitated. His right hand lashed out, a _shockwave_ rocking the creatures back on their heels, and then he dashed forward to roll _under_ a slashing claw.

Javik followed. So did I.

“Liara! You and Javik break right! Get that maw hammer moving!”

_Separate our forces?_

Then I realized it made no difference. We were _hopelessly_ outmatched. To stay together meant twice the time to get the hammers moving. Twice the risk that all of us would be gutted or smashed into paste before we could succeed.

I saw Shepard sprint alone, off to the left, and did my best to put him out of my mind. Instead I dodged around a brute, my barrier flashing and going down, as the creature barely missed a stroke that would have taken my head off. I shifted and changed direction before it could turn around and try again.

A shadow fell across my path.

_“Asari!”_

I glanced up, had just an instant to realize I was running _under the Reaper_ , and then saw its massive leg descending. I screamed, dove and rolled to the side.

The sound of its leg slamming into the ground felt like the end of the world, but at least I _heard_ it. I got to my hands and knees, spitting out dry sand, and saw the Reaper’s surface not two meters away from me.

Briefly I considered collapsing in sheer terror. Then I pushed myself to my feet, slipped around the Reaper’s leg, saw open ground ahead of me, and sprinted.

“This is _utterly insane,”_ I gasped.

_“Shepard! Get those hammers going!”_

_“There’s a Reaper in my way, Wrex!”_

_“I know. You get all the fun.”_

Dry air sawing in my lungs. My heart feeling as if it would explode. Then I stood by the maw hammer, the activation switch just in front of me. I reached out and slammed it down with all my strength. Javik pelted to a stop beside me less than two seconds later.

_Boom. Boom. Boom._ A sound like repeated thunder, audible even over the cacophony of the battle. I glanced back the way we had come, saw an enormous column rising and falling in rhythm. Then the hammer next to me first slammed down, a noise to rival the sound of the Reaper’s movements not far away.

Completely spent, I leaned against a stone wall and stared about me in all directions. If a brute had charged me at that point, I think I would have stood quietly and resigned myself to death. Fortunately all the Reaper’s creatures seemed to have other worries at the moment.

“There!” cried Javik, pointing off over the sands. _“Kalros!”_

The Reaper turned away, walking close to us but paying us no attention, apparently staring out into the desert. It roared, opening its firing chamber once more.

The last few turian fighters turned away, fleeing for the horizon.

A geyser of sand, moving rapidly closer. Kalros became visible for a moment.

The Reaper fired its main gun. Missed.

Another eruption, flinging stone and sand hundreds of meters across the desert. Kalros _breached_ , the forward half of its body soaring into the air. Its monstrous head slammed into the Reaper amidships, rocking the thing back so hard that it nearly fell.

The Reaper twisted in place, trying to dislodge Kalros. The struggle lifted the thresher maw’s body _into the air entire_ , sending it soaring over our heads to slam into the Shroud tower in the middle distance.

“Asari!” shouted Javik. “This is not a fight we should witness at such close range!”

“Agreed,” I gasped.

We couldn’t quite manage to _run_ , but we hustled as quickly as we could, back the way we came. I worried for a moment about the brutes, but there was no sign of the creatures as we fled. After a moment Javik put his shoulder under mine, his arm around my waist, supporting me as I tried to hurry.

I spared a glance for the Reaper.

It had shaken Kalros loose. It turned slightly and fired its main gun at the thresher maw once more.

Kalros _dodged_ , moving with more speed and agility than I would have believed possible. Within moments, it retreated under the surface once more.

Javik and I reached the dubious shelter of a stone wall and paused for a moment.

The Reaper turned slightly, its firing chamber still open and primed, looking almost _uncertain_. For good reason, if the tremors still shaking the ground were any indication.

Then Kalros erupted out of the ground again, _behind_ the Reaper, slamming into it, this time knocking it entirely off its feet.

The Reaper fired its gun desperately, but the thresher maw had adjusted its tactics. Instead of trying to simply slam into its foe, it wrapped its coils around the Reaper, exerting a terrible crushing force.

The gun fired. Then again. To no effect.

Kalros retracted herself down into the ground once more, dragging the Reaper with it, crushing it. I saw discharges of red energy, like blood from a mortal wound. I could hear the sound of crumpling metal, on a scale to shatter worlds.

One last time, the Reaper emitted its great mechanical roar.

Then it was gone.

I turned on my hardsuit comm. “Shepard?”

_“Shepard!”_

A burst of distortion on the channel, and then I heard his voice. _“. . . okay, Liara. Came a little closer than I like to having Kalros slammed down on me, but I’m okay.”_

“Oh, thank the Goddess.”

_“Are you and Javik all right?”_

I glanced at Javik. I was beginning to read Prothean body language: eyes wide, mouth slack, breath coming fast and deep, posture looking as if he wanted to fall to his knees. I guessed he was having the Prothean equivalent of a religious experience.

“I think so. Do you need us?”

_“No sign of the brutes. If that thing had any more troops ready to deploy, Kalros sent them to hell with it. I’m just a few steps away from the base of the Shroud right now. I’ll make sure Mordin is ready to go. You and Javik head back to the truck, and I’ll meet you there.”_

“All right. Be careful.”

“ _After all that,_ now _you tell me to be careful?”_

“You know what I mean.”

A short pause, then: _“Yes, I do. I love you, Liara. See you soon.”_

I turned to see Javik watching me. “To see a Reaper fall,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

“Is this the first time?”

“Yes. For me, at least. I heard stories of the destruction of Reapers during our war, but those under my command never managed the feat. I understand that for you, this is _not_ the first time.”

I nodded. “I was there when the Alliance fleet destroyed _Sovereign_. I may have helped, in some small way.”

_“Rrrh._ Two down. Many hundreds to go.” His usual cynicism seemed to have returned. Yet I saw a difference in the way he watched me. Perhaps, for the first time, a small portion of respect. “Come. Let us return to the truck, find the Commander, and see what we have won.”

* * *

We found Shepard standing alone in the sunlight, the genophage cure falling gently on all sides like a tracery of golden snow. He held his hand out to catch a flake of it, watching it vanish like a dream on his palm. His body language spoke of dejection rather than triumph.

I moved forward, puzzled by his stance. “Shepard? What’s wrong? Where’s Mordin?”

My bondmate said nothing, only pointed toward the Shroud tower.

Off in the distance I could hear explosions, signs of the tower tearing itself to pieces. The battle against the Reaper must have damaged it. It had lasted just long enough to perform its final service: scattering the genophage cure into the stratosphere to blanket all of Tuchanka.

“He stayed behind,” said Shepard, his voice dull. “Someone had to ride the elevator up to the top, fix the STG sabotage and make sure everything was in good shape. Whoever did that wasn’t going to be coming back down, and we both knew it.”

I stepped close to him, put my arm around his waist and rested my head on his shoulder. “So he insisted.”

He hugged me close. “Of course. _Had to be me,_ he said.”

_“Someone else might have gotten it wrong,”_ I quoted in a whisper.

The last _tomkah_ rolled up behind us. After a moment, its hatch opened and two krogan emerged, looking up into the sunlight and letting wisps of the genophage cure fall onto their faces. As always, I found it hard to read Eve’s expression, with nothing but her eyes visible. Wrex reached up to shade his face, his expression one of simple wonder.

I glanced up at Shepard’s face, calm and still, his eyes red but not overflowing.

“I was fond of him too,” I said.

He nodded, his arm tightening slightly around my shoulders, but all he said was, “Let’s go home.”


	20. Shadows of the Mind

**_4 May 2186, Urdnot Clan Territory/Tuchanka_ **

Before we returned to _Nomandy_ , we paused for a moment to say goodbye to our friends. The Hollows stood quiet now, the bones of the honored krogan dead scattered all around us. On all sides, krogan worked to pick up the remains of husks, carrying them away to be burnt on a pyre.

Wrex stood still, his head bowed. “A long time ago, my father betrayed me in this place. His own son. He tried to kill me. So I had to kill him. Right over there.” He pointed to a shadowed corner, where the bones piled high. “That’s what the genophage reduced us to. Animals.”

Shepard nodded, his eyes still shadowed with grief.

Wrex turned to place a comradely hand on his shoulder. “You and Mordin changed that today. You’ve given us our lives back. Even better, you’ve given us back a _reason_ to live.”

“Now we’ll fight _for_ our children, not against them,” Eve agreed. “It’s just a pity Mordin had to die.”

Shepard made a small smile at last, remembering his friend. “He wouldn’t have had it any other way. Wherever he is, I’m sure he’s putting in a good word for us. Probably a _lot_ of good words.”

“Hah!” barked Wrex. “We’ll name one of the kids after him. Maybe a girl.”

“But you, Commander, you and your people, we can thank you in person.” Eve stepped forward, rested her hands on Shepard’s shoulders in a brief embrace, a gesture I had never seen from any krogan before.

“What will you do now?” I asked, smiling at the expression on Shepard’s face.

“Spread the hope you’ve given us,” said Eve. “Even now there are clans gathering in the Kelphic Valley, aware that something has changed, almost afraid to hope. I’ll go speak to them. Rally the females in particular around a new understanding of our universe. Make sure the gift you’ve given us isn’t squandered.”

“Meanwhile, you can tell the turians I’ll be deploying troops to Palaven immediately,” said Wrex. “And when you’re ready to kick the Reapers off Earth, you let me know. The krogan are _back in business.”_

“Goodbye, Commander, Dr. T’Soni.” Eve’s smile was so broad it could be seen despite her hood and veil, and then she bowed in deep respect. “Thank you for all you have done, and know that _Urdnot Bakara_ calls you her friends.”

My eyes widened in surprise. For a krogan shaman to take up her name once more . . .

_But then, she can’t be a shaman any longer. Mate to the greatest warlord on Tuchanka, mother to his children, moral beacon for her entire species, she’s probably destined to be the first great krogan matriarch since Shiagur._

I embraced her for the first and last time, feeling the strength in her arms. “Thank you, Bakara. Good fortune follow you, and all your people.”

Shepard nodded, shaking Wrex’s hand. “The same goes for me, Wrex. I’m looking forward to the day we can fight side by side again.”

Then we turned for the shuttle, and home.

* * *

**_4 May 2186, Aralakh System Space_ **

The cabin appeared empty when I arrived. Then I heard the sound of water running in the refresher cubicle.

“Shepard?”

No response.

I nodded to myself and began to strip down. Once I finished, I opened the cubicle door and stepped inside, a dense cloud of steam wafting out past me.

I found Shepard leaning up against the cubicle wall, his eyes closed and his head bowed, motionless, just letting the hot water pour over him. I stepped under the water, put one hand behind his neck and the other on his hip, rested my forehead on his shoulder, and then I just stood there, not quite pressed against him.

 _“Shepard,”_ I breathed, tasting his scent on the humid air.

“Mmm,” he rumbled, and then he brought his arms up to gather me in.

“Are you all right?” I asked, enjoying the feel of his body against mine, hard and strong and rough, not asari at all. He had a sharp scent, but clean. I gave in to the temptation to taste his skin, just along the massive ridge of muscle from his neck down to his shoulder.

“I will be.” He took a deep breath, the muscles of his chest and belly flexing with the effort. “Rough day. _Very_ rough day.”

“You have a gift for understatement, love.” My hand smoothed up the planes of his back, my fingertips caressing the path of his spine. “I don’t know about you, but I nearly got stepped on by a Reaper.”

“Same. Along with almost having a megaton of sandworm dropped on my head.” He drew his head back so he could look me in the eyes. “Battles almost never go as planned, but _that_ one was for the history books. _How not to attack a Reaper.”_

“Yet somehow it worked. We defeated the Reaper, cured the genophage, and won an alliance with the krogan.”

“At a cost,” he said grimly. “Lieutenant Victus and over twenty of his men, plus half of Artimec Wing. Forty or so of the krogan. Corporal Vance. Mordin.”

“I know.” I leaned forward and rested my forehead against his, so I could taste his breath while I spoke. “Shepard, do you remember the night I survived a fight with Morinth?”

“Mmm,” he agreed. “When was that? A few days before I came to Illium to meet you for the first time? I know I’ve seen it in your memories.”

“I think it was the low point of my time on Illium. Right after the disaster on Ferris Fields, right after Morinth murdered one of my people, the same night she nearly killed _me_. I felt broken. I couldn’t stop thinking about what appalling things I had done, how many of my own people I had lost. I wasn’t sure I could keep fighting any longer.”

His arms tightened around me, pressing me close, giving me comfort.

“Do you remember what snapped me out of it?” I asked him.

“You realized there was something worse than damning yourself,” he said quietly.

“Yes. Far worse to damn myself _and fail.”_ I pulled back, maybe a few millimeters, enough to meet his gaze once more. “Shepard, we didn’t fail today.”

“I suppose not.” His lips met mine, an unhurried, passionate kiss, something to melt my bones and light a fire in my belly. “Like I said, Liara, I _will_ be all right. I’ve lost people under my command before. I’ve lost friends before. More than I can count. Sometimes it was my fault, sometimes not. It never stops me from doing what has to be done. It just helps if I can take a little time to process it.”

“Let me help,” I whispered.

After a time, he braced himself against the cubicle wall, his strong arms holding me in place. Hot water continued to stream down on both of us. Our coronas fizzled and snapped in the moist air. I wrapped my legs around his hips, dug my fingers into the flesh behind his shoulders, and _held on._

I fell a long way when the merger began. Deep into his memory, then into the wild country, the distant shadowed reaches of his mind. Into a place where even symbols and non-verbal thoughts fade away, leaving nothing but the eternal foundations of the soul.

 _There_.

Like a diamond of great price, a book of ancient lore, a melody of heart-breaking beauty.

 _Shepard_.

The core of what made him the man he was.

_I want that. I want to be more like that. I want . . ._

_I want that for my children_.

A daughter, his and mine. Blue skin, crystal-blue eyes, sharp intellect, dauntless courage, compassion overflowing for all life. The best of both of us.

_Goddess. Can I . . ._

I reached out for it. Touched it.

But when I tried to read it, I failed. Something within me could not respond. Was not ready.

I fell back into my body, screaming in ecstasy and loss.

When I came to, I found myself lying in Shepard’s bed. How I had gotten there, dry and warm under the sheets, I couldn’t quite recall.

I opened my eyes. It seemed to take quite a lot of effort.

“Welcome back,” said Shepard.

He lay close by, propped up on one elbow, watching me. When he saw me awake, he reached out and caressed my body gently with his free hand.

“What happened?” I murmured.

“Not sure. That was _very_ intense. Might be a good idea to try it in the bed next time.” He chuckled. “I nearly dropped you. That would not have been easy to explain to Dr. Chakwas.”

“I’m sorry, Shepard. I didn’t expect whatever that was.” A thought flashed through my mind, and my eyes widened in chagrin. “Oh Goddess, I think I _do_ know what it was. I tried to _record_ you.”

“You tried to conceive a child?”

“I’m so sorry, Shepard. I lost control. I should never have done it without talking to you first.”

He smiled gently at me. “It didn’t exactly seem like a cold, calculated decision.”

“No. It wasn’t.”

“I’m not angry with you, Liara.” He leaned in and slipped an arm around me, pulling me close. “I _am_ a little surprised. You told me you were probably too young to have children.”

“It appears that I am.” I heard a trace of bitterness in my voice. “It didn’t work.”

“This time,” he said gently.

“Shepard?”

He kissed my forehead. “Liara, this is a _terrible_ time for us to think about having children. There’s no guarantee either of us will live out the year. No guarantee _anyone_ will live out the year.”

“I know.”

“But if you want to try, go ahead.”

I reached up to touch his face, looked up to stare into his eyes. “Do you mean that?”

“The two of us do seem to have a habit of beating the odds. By rights we shouldn’t have survived _today_. Why not push our luck? Assuming we find a way to beat the Reapers, nothing would make me happier than a daughter of yours and mine.” His smile broadened, became a wicked grin. “Besides, that was even more mind-blowing than sex with you usually is.”

I rolled my eyes in exasperation. “Shepard!”

“Blue goddess,” he murmured, and bent to nibble at the folds of flesh behind my neck.

This time our lovemaking was gentler, less demanding. Despite our agreement, I didn’t make any new attempt to record his essence. Our minds merged as smoothly and easily as silk over bare skin.

That was when, for the first time, I saw something _not quite right,_ deep in Shepard’s mind.

* * *

**_5 May 2186, Noveria Orbit_ **

The day after Tuchanka, _Normandy_ joined an Alliance assault force to liberate Noveria.

Cerberus had taken the planet about three weeks before, using it as a staging point for further attacks into Alliance space. They had also mustered and directed the raids on Sur’Kesh and Tuchanka from there. Since then – with _Normandy_ and her crew in the vanguard – Alliance forces had stopped the Cerberus offensive cold, and then begun to roll it back.

Admiral Hackett had planned his attack on Noveria for the fifth of May in any case. With the Tuchanka campaign over, a decisive allied victory on the books, he was quite happy to give us a role. Shepard took Garrus, Javik, and all of his Marines down to the surface to assault a critical Cerberus fighter base.

While he was away, I went to see Karin Chakwas.

The doctor was one of my earliest human friends. When I first came aboard _Normandy_ , even before Shepard decided what to do with me, Karin treated me with courtesy and kindness. That had meant a great deal to a lost young asari, who had just learned of her own mother’s monstrous treason. Since then I had grown and changed, not always for the better, but I still trusted Dr. Chakwas implicitly.

As I crossed the crew deck, I saw her through the windows of her workspace, sitting at her desk and working on crew readiness reports. I waved to catch her attention, and saw her smile and begin to rise as I approached the door.

“Liara, what brings you to the med bay? Here, let’s have a look at you.”

I smiled. “No need for that, Karin. I’m fine.”

“After the day you had yesterday?” Gently but irresistibly, she shepherded me across the room to sit on a bed. Out came a medical scanner.

“That _was_ quite a workout, I must admit. Lots of running, jumping, ducking into cover, shooting at things, flinging creatures about with my biotics, almost getting smashed into paste by a Reaper . . .”

She snorted in derision. “I see the Commander has been a bad influence on you. He also has a habit of deflecting the stress of life-threatening situations with dry humor.”

“I would say he has been a very _good_ influence on me,” I objected.

“Perhaps so.” Karin closed the scanner. “Well, you’re certainly the picture of fitness and health. No sign of long-term complications from your injuries on Sur’Kesh.”

“Good. But that wasn’t what I came to talk to you about.”

Concern shone in her silver eyes. “What’s the matter, Liara?”

“Shepard and I were intimate last night . . .” I trailed off, finding it difficult to describe in words what I had seen.

“Well, there’s certainly nothing wrong with _that_.” Karin smiled warmly. “I can always tell when you and the Commander have had the opportunity to take some time for yourselves. His stress levels drop off the next day. Which is all to the good. They’ve been running _much_ too high, ever since this war began.”

“I know. Normally I only begin to worry when he loses interest. It’s not that.” I took a deep breath. “It’s something I saw, when our minds merged fully. Something I’ve never noticed before.”

“What was it?” she asked, fully serious now.

“It’s very difficult to describe.” I reached up and toyed nervously with my fringe. “For a moment, it seemed as if _someone else_ was in the link with us. A third mind.”

Karin frowned. “Is that even possible?”

“Oh, certainly. The joining can involve more than two people, though it becomes more difficult the more individuals try to take part at once.” I felt my face color with embarrassment. “I understand humans sometimes enjoy intimacy in larger groups. We asari are similar in this respect, but I’ve never . . .”

“I understand.” The doctor’s face grew thoughtful. “As I understand it, what you’re describing would require physical contact among all participants. Or at least physical _presence.”_

“That’s correct. I’m quite sure the Commander and I were alone last night. But that’s not the strangest part.” I took a deep breath. “Karin, it seemed as if the third mind in the link was _also_ Shepard. Like an echo.”

“You’ve never sensed anything like this before?”

I shook my head. “No, never. Unfortunately, my lack of experience handicaps me here. Shepard is the only lover I’ve ever had. For all I know this is normal for him, or normal for humans. I’m not even sure if it’s something to be concerned about. But there’s one possibility that frightens me.”

Her eyes went wide. “Indoctrination.”

“Yes. He’s been in proximity to the Reapers and their technology, more often than anyone I can think of who has _not_ been indoctrinated. He’s the only one who goes on _every – single – mission_. What if this is how it begins, with a voice in the back of your mind, whispering to you?”

Karin frowned, thinking hard, and then shook her head. “No, I don’t see it. He hasn’t reported hearing any voices. He also hasn’t reported or exhibited any of the other symptoms: headaches, hallucinations, a sensation of being watched, or paranoia.”

“That’s true.” I closed my eyes, tried to remember and analyze what I had sensed. “It didn’t feel like a foreign presence in his mind. It _tasted_ exactly like Shepard, if that makes any sense. If not for the duplication, both threads of awareness present at the same time, I don’t think I would have been able to tell the difference.”

“That doesn’t sound like indoctrination in any of its stages. Nor does it sound like any known form of mental illness. Which, I might add, I have absolutely no diagnostic reason to suspect is present in the Commander.”

“I agree.” I shook my head in bewilderment. “Karin, I’m intimately familiar with _one_ human mind, but I don’t have your expertise in general human psychology. What do you advise?”

“Have you spoken to the Commander about this?”

“Not yet. I’m almost afraid to.”

“Have you seen any other evidence of a problem?”

“No.” I felt my jaw set in determination. “He’s still the same man. Whatever this is, it’s not affecting his conscious thoughts or his decisions.”

“Hmm. Then I don’t see any cause for alarm for now. I would advise you to talk to your husband about it, when he returns to the ship. Let him know what you saw, and let him know you and I have spoken. It does him good in any case, to know you’re concerned about his well-being.”

I nodded in agreement. “I will.”

“In the meantime, I’ll do some research. There’s a great deal of literature by now, on the medical and psychological effects of asari-human bonding. Perhaps, as you say, this is something uncommon but quite normal.”

“Goddess, I hope so.” I smiled and gave her a quick hug. “Thank you, Karin. I appreciate your help.”

“Any time, Liara.”

* * *

Shepard returned to _Normandy_ victorious, Cerberus driven away from its base and no more than a few bumps and scrapes for our people. It was a pleasant change of pace from the nightmare of Tuchanka.

Over dinner in his cabin, I explained what I had seen in our joining, and the result of my discussion with Dr. Chakwas. He listened with close attention while he ate his beef and potatoes, washing it down with coffee.

“Very strange,” was his only comment. “I haven’t noticed anything amiss, and you _know_ I’ve kept watch for any signs of indoctrination. You’ve never noticed this before?”

“No.” I sighed. “I’m beginning to think I was imagining the whole thing.”

“I don’t believe that. Here.” He extended his hand across the table for me to take. “Take a moment and look now.”

“All right.” I held his hand, centered myself, slipped into a light trance. Almost at once, I felt the edges of my identity begin to blur. Our bonding, and repeated practice, had made it much easier for me to slip into his mind on short notice. _“Embrace eternity.”_

Memories flooded across the link, his experiences on Noveria during that day, a few associated images from our visit to the planet three years before. I moved past that, avoiding his memories of my mother, into the deeper reaches of his mind.

“Nothing,” I said at last, breaking the link. “No sign of it.”

“Hmm.” He didn’t release my hand. “Well, T’Soni, it seems this thing of ours develops new facets every day.”

I smiled, grateful for his humor. “It’s a _thing_ now?”

“Yes. A very fine thing, which I’m glad we have.” He squeezed my hand. “You know, there’s someone else we might ask about this.”

“Who?”

“The one who reassembled my mind in the first place. Miranda.”

“That might be difficult. She’s gone deep underground since the last time you saw her, just before the war summit. I don’t know if any of my contact codes for her will work.”

“Give it a try when you get the chance,” he said, a gentle command.

I nodded in agreement.

Just then the comm buzzed softly, and a sultry voice came over the channel. _“Commander?”_

“What is it, EDI?”

_“I apologize for interrupting your meal, but a priority message is coming in from the Citadel. Councilor Valern wishes to speak with you.”_

Shepard and I exchanged a glance.

“What is _he_ after?” I wondered.

“He probably wants to bitch at me some more over the krogan. We’ll take it in my office, EDI.”

_“Acknowledged.”_

We rose from the table and made our way up into the office space, where Shepard keyed acceptance of the incoming message. The surface of his model case shimmered, turned opaque, and then we could see the salarian Councilor sitting in his private office.

 _“Commander. Dr. T’Soni. There is something we should discuss, if you are_ quite _finished rewriting history?”_

“We made our decision, Councilor,” said Shepard firmly. “There’s not much anyone can do about it now.”

_“Yes. We’re going to have billions more krogan in the galaxy. It’s a good thing you saved my life once, Shepard. Otherwise, well. I believe you humans have a saying about ‘water under the bridge.’ It seems appropriate.”_

“Your point, Councilor?”

_“I have concerns about humanity’s representative, Councilor Udina.”_

I frowned, opened my omni-tool and punched in a query to my databases.

“What about him?” asked Shepard.

_“My agents have discovered that he’s using his authority to move vast sums of money. For what purpose, we’re not sure.”_

Shepard folded his arms and leaned back slightly, a skeptical expression on his face. “That’s not surprising, Councilor. Udina is coordinating the largest civilian relief effort in my people’s history. Naturally a lot of money is going to change hands.”

_“We’ve allowed for that. We’ve established that a great deal of that relief money is not moving in the directions announced to the public. What we haven’t been able to establish is where it’s ending up.”_

Shepard glanced over to me. “Liara?”

I glanced up from my omni-tool, where I had been flash-reading reports from my own network. “I would have to do some work to verify, but yes, I’m seeing it too.”

“Hmm. Well, I can’t say I’ve always been impressed with Udina’s honesty. If he’s dirty, we had better get to the bottom of it fast.”

_“Agreed. Come to the Citadel as soon as you can. We can review the evidence and discuss this in private. Valern out.”_

The salarian’s image faded into nothingness.

“Shepard to bridge.”

_“Bridge here.”_

“Joker, don’t you _ever_ go off-duty?”

_“Actually, I was about to go for dinner and some rack time. However, due to my amazing psychic powers, I sense that you have another task for me.”_

“Put us on a course for the Citadel. I want to be there first thing tomorrow morning.”

_“Ah. A milk run. Not a problem, Commander.”_

“Good night, Joker.”

“What could Councilor Udina be up to?” I mused. “Shepard, I think I had better go down to my office for an hour or two. It disturbs me that the Broker network didn’t bring this to my attention. I _should_ have plenty of visibility on all four of the Councilors.”

“Okay. Don’t stay up too late.”

I stepped close to brush his lips with mine. “No promises.”


	21. Coup

**_6 May 2186, Interstellar Space_ **

I leaned down to gently shake my bondmate’s shoulder. “Shepard.”

He opened his eyes at once, blinking up at me for a moment, and then glancing to the side to check his bedside clock.

“Liara, have you been up all night?”

“I’m afraid so.” I sat down on the bed beside him, while he pushed himself up to a half-sitting position against the headboard. “Something is terribly wrong.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I went down to my office to investigate what Councilor Udina might be up to. I hoped it would take no more than a couple of hours, but I’ve been busy all night, and I _still_ haven’t gotten to the bottom of it.” I sighed, rubbing fatigue out of my eyes. “I can verify one thing. He _is_ moving enormous sums of money, and a lot of it _is_ vanishing into the ether. That worries me a great deal.”

“It’s not going to civilian relief?”

“No. It isn’t going to any of Admiral Hackett’s funding lines for the Crucible, either. Shepard, there just aren’t that many places he could hide that much money. Not from the Broker’s network. In fact, there’s only one organization I can think of that _could_ hide it from me, and could also _use_ so many billions of credits.”

He saw it then. A frown like a thundercloud spread across his face. “Cerberus.”

“I have almost no visibility into Cerberus, since just before the war began. Do you suppose Udina might have thrown in with the Illusive Man?”

“I don’t know.” He cocked his head, rubbing his chin with one hand, thinking hard. “He’s certainly a human chauvinist, and he’s always butting heads with the other Councilors. Since the war started, he’s gone almost out of his mind with frustration at the lack of support from the rest of the Council. On the other hand, he’s always seemed like a stickler for the rule of law.”

“Which would suggest he’s not likely to work willingly with a terrorist group.” I took Shepard’s hand and held it gently, just for the comfort. “My psych profile on him would tend to agree. It’s just that all of the data supporting that profile date back to before the Reapers arrived. Stress changes people.”

“True.” He gave me a sharp glance. “You wouldn’t wake me up just for that. What’s really bothering you?”

“I’ve lost contact with the Citadel.”

His eyes went wide with surprise.

“I have dozens of agents on the Citadel at any given time. You even know a few of them. Barla Von, the volus broker, for example. I communicated with several of them while I worked on the Udina problem. Until about fifteen minutes ago.”

“They’re not answering?”

“None of them. I placed a call to the Asari Embassy. No response. I placed a call to Councilor Tevos as the Shadow Broker. No response. Shepard, the Citadel has gone off the grid.”

“Do you think the Reapers have attacked?”

“I don’t know.” I took a deep breath, trying to banish fear. “The turians have diverted their Citadel fleet to fight the Reapers around Palaven. A lot of asari and salarian ships have also gone home to watch their borders. Even the human detachment is at minimum strength right now. The Citadel is vulnerable. I’m afraid _someone_ has taken advantage.”

At once, Shepard swung his legs over the side of the bed and pushed himself to his feet.

“EDI. _Sound battle stations.”_

* * *

**_6 May 2186, Widow System Space_ **

_Normandy_ dropped into normal geometry in the inbound lane for the Theta-4 relay.

Shepard and I stood together in the CIC, watching the holographic display. We had configured it to show a “tactical” display of the space around the Citadel, a volume about three light-seconds across. That sufficed to reach from the station itself, out to the irregular ring of mass relays that made the Widow System one of the galaxy’s great hubs of starship traffic.

The moment we disengaged from the relay, I expected icons to begin appearing in the display. To my surprise, space remained empty, except for the Theta mass arrays and the Citadel itself.

“Where is everybody?” Shepard muttered.                                                                  

 _“No sign of the Citadel fleet,”_ said Joker from the cockpit. _“Not even seeing any commercial traffic.”_

“EDI, any radio chatter?”

_“None, Commander.”_

“This is damned odd.” Shepard folded his arms, staring at the holographic display as if preparing to intimidate it. “At least the Reapers aren’t here. If they attacked the Citadel, I think we would know by now.”

“What if it’s Cerberus?” I asked quietly.

Shepard shook his head decisively. “Not even the Illusive Man is _that_ crazy. He made his play last month, and since them we’ve kicked him off every planet he attacked. Eden Prime, Sur’Kesh, Benning, Elysium, Tuchanka, Intai’sei, Terra Nova, Noveria – Cerberus has been _shattered_. Aside from the detachment operating out of Omega, they can’t have anything left to fight with.”

“I’m not so sure.” I moved to a console and worked with the controls. The galaxy map returned, with icons to display all the battles fought against Cerberus since their offensive began. Numbers appeared next to each icon: casualty estimates. “Cerberus has lost at least fifty thousand soldiers since the war began.”

“You’re proving my point, Liara.”

“Not really. Shepard, where did Cerberus get fifty thousand soldiers to begin with?”

That stopped him cold. He frowned in sudden thought.

“As of ten months ago, when the Lazarus Project revived you, Cerberus had a grand total of one hundred and fifty operatives, organized into a dozen or so cells. Over the next three months, while you fought the Collectors, they grew to perhaps five hundred operatives and starship crewmen. Project that rate of growth forward, assuming no losses, and Cerberus would have about nine thousand personnel today. Yet we have seen them deploy many times that number on the battlefield. How are they doing that?”

“The Shadow Broker doesn’t know?” he asked, just a hint of dry humor in his voice.

“I’m afraid not.” I gave him a challenging blue-eyed stare. “Shepard, if you can tell me where Cerberus got _one_ army on short notice, and demonstrate that it was a unique event, I might be willing to agree that they couldn’t get _another one.”_

“You’ve got me there. And the timing is _damn_ suspicious, given we already infer that Udina is up to something.” He raised his voice. “Joker, EDI, do you agree that there are no ships guarding the Citadel approaches?”

 _“Not unless they’re all stealth ships like us,”_ said Joker.

 _“I consider that unlikely,”_ said EDI.

“I concur. Joker, plot an FTL jump to get us down by the Citadel, best possible speed. Execute when ready.”

_“Aye-aye, Commander.”_

Less than a minute passed before a dull _boom_ echoed through _Normandy_ ’s hull. That quickly, we flashed forward half a million kilometers into the Citadel’s inner navigation envelope.

Shepard opened a channel. “Alliance Control, this is SSV _Normandy_ requesting clearance to dock.”

“Alliance Control, this is SSV _Normandy_. Are we cleared to descend?”

More silence.

 _“What the hell’s going on down there?”_ Joker complained. _“Even if there were a station malfunction, they would have backups online.”_

“Unless someone turned off the backups,” I suggested.

“Check the emergency channels,” Shepard ordered.

We waited for a few moments, while _Normandy_ continued to accelerate toward the Citadel.

_“Aha! Here we go. Commander, I’ve got a communication from Thane. You’ll want to hear this.”_

“Put him through.”

A burst of static, then a rumbling drell voice: _“Shepard. The Citadel is under attack. Cerberus troops are everywhere, and they’re in control of the docks.”_

My bondmate caught my eye. I did my best not to wear an _I-told-you-so_ expression.

“Are you safe?” he asked.

_“No. I had to evade their commandos at the hospital. I’m holed up in a Presidium storefront.”_

“Did Ashley make it out?”

_“Yes, but we got separated. She said she had to move to protect the Council. I’m trying to get to C-Sec headquarters. It’s been compromised, and C-Sec’s ability to coordinate a defense has been crippled as a result. As long as Cerberus is holding the headquarters, they have the station.”_

“All right. Joker, get us away from the docks and come in as close as you can to C-Sec. We’ll deploy in the shuttle. Liara, you’re with me.”

* * *

**_6 May 2186, C-Sec Headquarters/Citadel_ **

Chaos overwhelmed the Presidium.

The habitat ring looked as bright and beautiful as ever, at least at first glance. Then I looked more closely, and saw signs of battle. Smoke poured out of shattered storefronts. Squads of Cerberus and Citadel Security troops exchanged gunfire. The transport lanes, normally busy at all hours, held nothing but empty air.

Dead civilians lay here and there, caught out on the promenades despite the early hour. Cerberus had made its usual murderous entrance. I hoped that most of the population had taken the hint, bunkering down at home.

The Kodiak was full: Shepard, James and his Marine detachment, Garrus, Javik, EDI’s mobile platform, and the Shadow Broker nervously checking her sidearm for the seventeenth time. Shepard caught my eye with a small, sympathetic smile, and I shrugged.

_I’ve seen a hundred battlefields, but civil conflicts are always worse, somehow._

Cortez banked the shuttle hard, taking us between two buildings, a back-door approach to C-Sec Headquarters. Moments later we could see the landing stage we sought, awash with gunfire, a pitched battle already under way.

“Hot landing zone, Commander!” shouted Cortez.

“Everyone get ready,” Shepard commanded. “Out and into cover. Watch your fire discipline, there are friendlies on the ground and we don’t want to give them more problems than they already have.”

 _“Oo_ -rah,” came a grunted chorus from James and his men.

The hatch opened, and we rushed out into chaos.

A few C-Sec officers, all of them turians, held out desperately close to the edge of the landing stage. They almost opened fire on us the moment we deployed. Then they saw the Alliance blue of our shuttle, of the Marines’ battle-dress. Then they saw _Garrus_. Disaster passed us by, and Shepard could lead a flying wedge, smashing into the heart of the Cerberus formation.

 _“Holy shit, it’s_ Shepard!”

It was. Advancing by the numbers, alternating waves of Marines in heavy armor swept across the landing stage. Firing from cover, firing even while on the move, they cut through Cerberus ranks like a scythe through ripe grain. Meanwhile, Garrus set up in a sniper’s nest and began picking off Cerberus officers. Javik watched for Cerberus soldiers who tried to flank us, striking them down with his particle rifle. He and I also used our biotics to provide artillery support, detonating the targets Shepard “painted” for us.

Cerberus might have had sufficient numbers to defeat C-Sec and secure the landing stage. They didn’t have _nearly_ enough on hand to stand up to _Normandy_. After a few very noisy minutes, we cleared the area and C-Sec’s survivors began to emerge from cover.

“Shepard!”

A C-Sec officer came out to meet us, a craggy-faced male human, walking carefully to favor a bloody wound in his side. I recognized him: Armando-Owen Bailey, a senior officer who had worked with Shepard on previous visits to the Citadel. He limped forward, his face pale and drawn, but his hand gripped Shepard’s strongly.

“You’ve got _damn_ good timing, Shepard. Thought we were done for before you showed up.”

Shepard gave him a grim smile. “Good to see you in one piece, more or less. What are you doing down here? Thought your beat was up in the diplomatic district.”

“It is, but then Cerberus took Headquarters in their first push. I grabbed as many men as I could with our comms down, and came running to take the place back. Nearly got my ass shot off for my trouble.” He grunted with pain, one hand going to the thick pad of hardened medi-gel that held his left side together. “We’ve gotta kick them out of there. Everyone’s flying blind without the network.”

“How bad is the situation?” asked Garrus. “Do you know if the councilors are still alive?”

“They were, last I heard, but not all in the same place. That new Spectre, Williams, she went to try to pull ‘em together and keep ‘em safe. I’ll know more if I can get to a terminal inside.”

“Can you get us in?” asked Shepard.

Bailey grunted, turning away toward a nearby door. “If no one interrupts me with a bullet this time.”

The door opened. Shepard led us through.

Inside, we saw plenty of evidence of a bitter fight: furniture smashed and overturned, bullet holes in the walls, splashes of blood in several colors, corpses here and there. By far, most of the bodies belonged to C-Sec. Cerberus must have taken the police by almost complete surprise. On the other hand, we met no immediate opposition.

Soon we arrived in an office block. Bailey sat down at the first undamaged terminal he could find, tapping at it with easy competence. “Here we go. C-Sec network access, courtesy of Cerberus.”

“How is that going to help?” asked Shepard, commanding some of the Marines by gesture to secure a perimeter.

“Cerberus still has control of the main channels, but with this I can set up a new one. Without that, our people have no plan and no chance.” Bailey continued to work with the terminal for a few moments, and then his eyes flew wide with sudden surprise. “Hello!”

“What have you got?”

“A warning from Councilor Valern. _Be on guard, the likelihood of betrayal from within is high.”_

“Yeah, he contacted us yesterday. That’s why we came back to the Citadel in the first place.”

Bailey nodded. “Looks like Valern asked for an emergency meeting with the executor for this morning. Damn, he might be in the building right now.”

“Why would the councilor be meeting with the executor?”

“Usually that would mean someone big’s about to be prosecuted. Guess that someone had Cerberus friends.”

Shepard caught my eye and nodded. _“Udina.”_

“I know Valern mentioned him, but that’s insane,” said Garrus. “Does Udina even _have_ this kind of pull?”

“Clearly he does. Besides, it doesn’t take much pull to go to a castle’s gate and throw it open for the enemy to march in,” I pointed out.

Bailey shrugged. “You know who would have the answer to that? The councilor.”

“One councilor’s better than zero,” said Shepard decisively. “Where am I headed?”

“He could be in the executor’s office,” said Garrus. “It’s a fairly defensible position.”

“All right. James, you and your team stay here, guard our extraction zone and help C-Sec secure the area. EDI, I want you to work with Bailey and try to push Cerberus back out of the C-Sec networks.”

James and EDI exchanged a glance, James in particular looking not at _all_ happy, but then they nodded in obedient agreement.

“The rest of us are going to punch through anything else Cerberus has in the building, and try to reach the councilor in the executor’s office. Garrus, you know the way.”

The turian nodded, bringing his sniper rifle to the ready.

“Just a sec.” Bailey opened his omni-tool. “There. I set up an encrypted channel for all of us to use, so we can stay off the main network. Go!”

We went, Shepard and Garrus taking the lead, Javik and me following close behind. As we moved, Shepard opened a channel through his helmet comm. “Thane, what’s your status?”

The drell responded at once. _“I’m nearing the building. Running is difficult. I’ll try to get to you.”_

“He doesn’t sound good,” I murmured.

Shepard glanced back at me. “No. Ashley made friends with him in the hospital, and she’s been keeping me up to date. His condition has gotten a lot worse just in the last few weeks.”

Just then we encountered our first Cerberus, two troopers standing guard by a sealed door, and we had no more time for conversation.

Fighting our way through the building seemed tedious but not difficult. Cerberus troops had scattered to hold critical points, but they didn’t appear to have a large reaction force in reserve. We met them in small groups, fire-teams and squads, occasionally led by a heavily armored officer. Once in a while we also encountered a combat engineer, maintaining turrets to cover a critical position. These presented a little more challenge, pouring out bullets at such a rate that even Shepard hesitated to charge into the open. Garrus proved most useful there, directing overload charges to tear down the turrets’ shields and scramble their systems.

We found a great many corpses, most of them C-Sec officers, many of them clearly caught by surprise and shot in the back of the head.

“More traitors,” Shepard growled after finding one such.

“It reminds me of Mars,” I agreed. “One infiltration mech and the whole Archives facility went down.”

“Cerberus does love their infiltrators and sleeper agents,” said Garrus.

“I still want to know where Cerberus is _getting_ all these soldiers,” said Shepard. “It’s as if they have a whole _planet_ to draw on for recruits. How could they have hidden that?”

“Good question. Put it on the list,” said Garrus.

“It’s getting to be a very long list.”

We had some trouble getting to the upper levels of the building. Cerberus had locked down the lifts. Shepard had to blast open a control box, after which Garrus and I worked for several feverish minutes to bypass the locks.

 _“Any survivors in there?”_ called Bailey as we finished our work.

“None yet,” said Shepard. “We’re about to head to the upper levels.”

_“Damn. C-Sec is going to have a hell of a time rebuilding after this. Keep looking.”_

The lift let us out onto the administrative level. At once we were drenched, the fire-suppression systems showering everything with slightly rancid water. Everything was silent, frighteningly so, as if nothing at all lived on this level.

Suddenly Garrus shouted: “Ridgefield! Lamont! You alive?”

No response.

“Could you perhaps _not alert everyone?”_ I complained.

“If gunfire doesn’t put them on notice, I sure won’t,” said the turian, but he didn’t call out again.

A voice over a public-address system, frightened, tense, yet determined. Khalisah bint-Sinan al-Jilani, a human reporter who had come into conflict with Shepard on a few occasions. Now she responded to the Cerberus attack with journalist’s courage, reporting from a vantage point somewhere else on the station. While we listened to al-Jilani’s voice, we edged forward toward a large open space, an office block looking out over the Presidium.

“Executor’s office is just through there, and up a flight of stairs,” said Garrus quietly.

 _“Cerberus!”_ barked Javik.

We dove for cover as another Cerberus squad deployed into the office block from the opposite side.

Shepard had apparently lost his patience. He launched into a vanguard’s charge, smashing into the center of the enemy squad.

The rest of us followed, my heart leaping into my throat as I saw that some of the enemy remained on their feet.

Fortunately Shepard’s situational awareness remained superb. He rolled into cover behind a row of desks, calmly reloading his shotgun while more Cerberus troops dropped down on all sides from a gallery high above. Javik and I used our biotics to disrupt the enemy, preventing them from swarming Shepard while he prepared for his next move.

My bondmate popped up from cover, fired his shotgun twice to the right and left, turned on his heel, and then launched into another charge. This time he set off a nova-blast that scattered broken Cerberus troopers to all sides.

“Come on,” he said.

We climbed the stairs to the executor’s office. I triggered the door control, and the others executed a perfect room-covering starburst. To no avail. Nothing lived in the office, neither friend nor foe.

“Bailey,” called Shepard. “Looks like they got the executor and two salarian bodyguards. No sign of Councilor Valern.”

_“Damn. All right, keep searching. If you don’t see the councilor’s body, don’t count him out yet.”_

I eased the executor’s corpse aside and opened his desktop terminal. For once, we had some luck. The executor had been logged in when he died, and the Cerberus assassins hadn’t bothered to wipe his data. “Shepard, here it is. The executor met with the councilor no more than half an hour ago. They were still in talks when Cerberus attacked the building. The councilor may still be close by.”

Then I realized Shepard was paying me no attention. Instead he and Garrus stared out the plate window overlooking the office block we had just fought through.

“Found him!” said Shepard. “Looks unharmed.”

I hurried across the office, looked down, saw Valern rising from his hiding place behind a desk.

_He must have been there the entire time. Probably hiding beneath a tactical cloak._

Bailey’s voice: _“Good job, Shepard. Now get him someplace safe!”_

Shepard nodded, gestured to the rest of us to go back downstairs.

I nodded and turned to obey him. Then I heard gunfire, from just _behind_ me.

Shepard had pulled out his shotgun and blasted the plate window. I had only an instant to glimpse him leaping out, his armor still shedding glass shards, his biotic corona flaring to manage his mass.

_He saw something. The councilor must be under threat!_

“Goddess!” I shouted, and turned once more to sprint down the stairs after him. _“Come on!”_

I heard Shepard’s voice, from down on the office block floor. “Don’t even _think_ about it.”

When I arrived, Garrus and Javik only a few steps behind me, I found a bizarre tableau.

Shepard stood with his shotgun leveled, his biotics called up, tensely poised for action. Councilor Valern stood about two meters in front of my bondmate, his back to Shepard, his hands in the air.

A third person stood about five meters away: human, male, skin of a pale brown color, shock of black hair tied back with a ribbon, strange cybernetic mask obscuring his eyes. He wore a suit of light armor with a long jacket, rather like my own outfit, but all in black and silver with the Cerberus logo on his breast. He had a _sword_ slung on his back, but the main threat seemed to be a ball of biotic energy boiling in the palm of his right hand. He moved gracefully, keeping Valern between himself and Shepard, seemingly ready to unleash an attack at any moment.

With a shock I finally recognized him, despite the enormous changes he had suffered since our last encounter.

 _“You!”_ I whispered, and for a moment the sheer _hatred_ in my voice surprised even me.

_Liselle T’Loak’s murderer. Gillian Grayson’s murderer._

“Shepard!” Valern whispered. “He’s going to kill us all!”

“That remains to be seen.”

“I mean _Udina!_ He’s working with Cerberus to stage a coup. He’s got the other councilors with him, to hand over to the Illusive Man!”

Then Shepard glanced slightly to one side, seeing the three of us move up behind him. He made a grim smile.

“Four to one, pal,” he observed. “It’s over.”

Kai Leng smiled in return, like a predator in complete charge of the situation. “No. Now it’s _fun.”_


	22. Pursuit

**_6 May 2186, C-Sec Headquarters/Citadel_ **

The ball of leashed energy in Kai Leng’s right hand scaled upward, glowing brighter, beginning to buzz.

Shepard tried to move to the side, get a clear shot at the Cerberus assassin, but Councilor Valern still stood in the way.

Valern raised his hands to shield his face, flinching, anticipating the attack that would shatter his bones and stamp out his life.

Leng’s smile grew wider. He moved, quick as a striking serpent.

His _right_ hand had been holding our attention. Now his _left_ flew to his waist, drew a wickedly sharp throwing knife, and cast it with lethal accuracy.

Not at Councilor Valern.

At _me_.

Fortunately I had several years of practice with my biotics, under combat conditions. Before I even consciously recognized the threat, my mind reacted, slamming a biotic barrier into place.

The barrier deflected the knife. Slightly. Just enough that it didn’t skewer my heart.

It buried itself in my left shoulder instead.

I felt surprisingly little pain, the assassin’s blade was so wickedly sharp. Instead I felt _shock_ , at the sensation of a foreign object suddenly wedged in my flesh. I recoiled, a cry of surprise escaping my throat, but then I gritted my teeth and stayed on my feet.

Unfortunately, the damage had already been done. The Cerberus assassin knew _exactly_ where to strike, to do the most damage to his enemies.

Nothing else could have distracted Shepard for even an instant. As the knife flew past his position, his cybernetic reflexes kicked in. He turned slightly and lashed out with his left hand, hoping to deflect the knife in flight, but he missed. At the sound of my cry of shock, his eyes left Leng and Valern, glancing over his shoulder in my direction with a sudden flash of mortal fear.

In the instant Shepard stood off-balance, Leng struck.

His right hand snapped slightly to the side, and the weapon in the palm of his hand finally discharged. The blast caught Javik in center of mass, sending him flying back over a row of desks.

The assassin’s left hand reached behind his back, grasping the hilt of his sword. With a shout, he uncoiled into a running leap forward, the blade arcing back, ready to fly in an arc that would intersect Valern’s neck.

Garrus fired his sniper rifle, but Leng’s attack caught him off-balance too, and for once he missed cleanly.

Shepard realized what had happened. His head snapped back toward the enemy, and he began to spin his body and his shotgun in that direction.

My memory of that instant is still crystal-clear, four hundred years later.

Shepard had turned too far out of position. Even his enhanced muscles and reflexes couldn’t recover the mistake in time. Valern’s death seemed inevitable.

Until three gunshots struck Leng, from above and _behind_ our position.

The assassin had a strong kinetic barrier up. The gunshots did no damage, but they rocked him back on his heels, destroyed his momentum.

Then a new combatant appeared, leaping down from above, boots striking the floor with a solid _thud,_ interposing himself between Valern and the assassin.

 _Thane Krios_.

Leng lashed out with his right fist.

Thane rolled with the blow, struck at the assassin’s body twice, two pile-driver blows so fast I could barely see them.

The sword reversed, swept back with vicious speed.

Thane _leaped_ , almost two meters straight up in the air, the sword hissing through the space he had occupied a moment before.

When the drell landed once more, he already had a heavy pistol out, firing rapidly.

The assassin had already vanished behind a tactical cloak.

Shepard recovered, and another quick glance in my direction assured him I wasn’t in immediate danger. He seized Councilor Valern, forced the salarian off the field by brute strength. “Garrus!”

The turian leaped forward, pushed Valern behind him, and drew his own pistol for close-quarters work.

I yanked the knife out of my shoulder, suppressing a scream, and then put the wound out of my mind. My corona snapped into place, barrier up, telekinetic force ready to lash out as soon as I could see a target.

Javik rose to his feet, looking slightly dazed but functional, his beam rifle at the ready.

For a fearful moment, all of us scanned the room, looking for Leng.

Then the assassin returned, his tactical cloak falling, his sword poised, already rushing into close-quarters range of Thane.

The drell leaped up in the air again, throwing himself at Leng, his own biotic power surging blue-white around his right hand. His fist flashed forward, fast, so very fast.

Leng moved, just an instant faster.

Twenty centimeters of the sword appeared, bright red with drell blood, projecting from Thane’s back.

The Cerberus assassin recoiled, viciously whipping the blade back out of Thane’s body.

The drell collapsed to the floor without a sound.

Leng glanced in our direction.

Shepard fired his shotgun at close range. The blast passed over Thane and caught Leng almost in center of mass.

Once again the assassin’s barriers and armor took the blow, but _this_ strike didn’t come from a precise, delicate pistol. This was Shepard’s _Claymore,_ a gift from Urdnot Wrex, a weapon normally only fit for _krogan_. Leng’s barriers went down in a flash of light, and he staggered several meters backward.

Shepard _bellowed,_ a sound of inarticulate rage, and charged Leng.

It wasn’t a vanguard’s flash-charge. It’s possible that for a moment, Shepard felt too much sheer anger to control his biotics so finely. It took him several seconds to cross the floor.

Long enough for Kai Leng to recover his sword, leap to his feet, assess the situation, and _run like a thief_. He vaulted a low railing, leaping down to a causeway below.

Shepard fired again, missed again, leaped in hot pursuit.

Against my better judgment, I slapped the medi-gel tab on my jacket, leaned into a staggering run, and followed.

“Liara!” Garrus objected.

“Garrus,” I gasped, “guard the Councilor; get him back to James and Commander Bailey! And call for medical help for Thane!”

“But . . .”

“Do not argue, turian!” shouted Javik, falling in just behind me. “The assassin is getting away!”

We ran.

We reached the bottom of the causeway moments later. Just in time to see an air-car soar off into the Presidium’s false sky, Kai Leng standing at ease on its back, Shepard firing a sidearm uselessly after.

“Damn it. _Damn it!”_ he howled.

Then he looked back at us, and _behind_ us. He turned to run in our direction.

Thane stood there, somehow on his feet and following us, his sidearm in his hand. Then his legs went loose and he fell back against the nearest wall, sliding down to a seated position.

“Thane!” Shepard clattered to his knees beside the mortally injured drell.

I bent close to examine the terrible wound. After a moment, I caught Shepard’s eye and shook my head slightly.

The drell’s voice rasped, a horrible sound _._ “I have time. Don’t mind me. _Catch him.”_

Bailey’s voice, over Shepard’s omni-tool: _“Shepard? What’s going on up there?”_

“We stopped a Cerberus assassin from taking out Valern,” said Shepard. “I’ve left Garrus to guard the Councilor and bring him back to you. Thane needs medical help _fast.”_

_“Got it. I’ll make the call. Where’s the assassin?”_

“He got away. _This time.”_

_“Probably going after the rest of the Council.”_

“That’s my assessment too. Get the word out – Udina’s trying to seize power, with help from Cerberus. I’ll try to get to the other Councilors.”

_“My board shows they’re being taken to a shuttle pad for evac. Grab a car and start driving. I’ll try to raise them on the comm.”_

Shepard turned toward a blue C-Sec aircar sitting several meters away, but then he stopped and glanced back at us. “Liara?”

“I’m fine. The medi-gel will hold me together,” I told him. “Come on. That _nothos_ thug is getting away.”

For a moment, Shepard appeared ready to argue with me, but then he jumped into the car and punched the starter button. I piled in front with him, while Javik slipped into the rear seat. Within moments, the car soared into the air.

I took a moment to catch my breath and examine the wound in my shoulder. Medi-gel had sealed it and killed the pain, but I found a surprising amount of indigo blood soaking my jacket. I flexed the fingers of my left hand, and felt nothing more than a slight burning sensation.

“You okay?” asked Shepard gently.

“I’ve had worse. I’ve had worse _recently.”_

 _“Rrrh,”_ said the Prothean in the back seat, but I thought I could hear a note of amused respect in it.

_I may not be much of a soldier, but I seem to be picking up Shepard’s habit of making light of wounds._

_“Shepard? I’ve got a fix on the Council’s position. I’m sending it to your car.”_

Shepard glanced down at the dashboard, saw a white dot blinking on a schematic of the Presidum. “Somewhere above Shalmar Plaza, I see. Good job, Bailey. We’re almost there.”

A sudden shadow fell across the car’s canopy.

_Thump!_

Kai Leng abruptly appeared on our car, kneeling on the hood. He raised his head to stare through the windshield at us.

Shepard reacted at once, applying the most deadly weapon at his disposal.

 _The car_.

He put the vehicle into a steep climb, driving straight for one of the pedestrian walkways that connected buildings on opposite sides of the Presidium ring.

I let out a small scream, expecting a collision at any moment.

Leng glanced over his shoulder, saw the immediate problem, and threw himself into a headlong dive over our heads. I saw him draw his sword just before he vanished.

We heard a solid _thunk_ from behind us, somewhere in the vicinity of the engine compartment. Then the car flashed under the pedestrian walkway, no more than five or six centimeters of clearance to spare.

“Uh-oh,” said Shepard, as red lights began to flash all across his panel. “Liara, take the controls for a moment.”

_“What?”_

He had already popped the top of the car open, his sidearm in his hand.

I lunged for the controls, feeling a sharp pain in my injured shoulder.

Shepard leaned out, half turned to face the rear of the vehicle, nothing but one hand’s grip on the door to prevent him from falling a hundred meters to the floor of the Presidium ring. At least he didn’t linger. A moment of staring out into empty space, and then he hauled himself back inside to take the controls once more.

“Leng is damned quick, I’ll give him that,” he remarked. The car listed more and more to the left, alarms now beginning to blare. Shepard fought to keep us in the air.

“What did he do to this vehicle?” Javik inquired.

“All I could see was _part_ of his sword, sticking up out of the engine compartment. He must have jammed the blade down into the engine block to short something out. All while he dove overboard to avoid being smashed into paste.”

“A clever and determined adversary,” said the Prothean.

“Hopefully a _dead_ adversary,” Shepard said, gritting his teeth as something exploded behind us with a dull _crash_. “Although I won’t believe that until I see his corpse. _Hang on!”_

The car went into its death-dive. Shepard did his best to flatten out our trajectory, aiming for a terrace on the left wall of the Presidium ring.

_Oh Goddess, here we go._

I braced myself with both arms, steeling my mind for the collision.

When it came, it felt _exactly_ as bad as I had expected. The three of us rattled around in our seats like dice in a cup, accompanied by the sounds of tearing metal and shattering ceramic. When all motion stopped and I could take stock, I found myself alive. Also hurting. A lot.

Shepard popped the top of the car and climbed out, staggering slightly. I groaned and followed him, then reached back into the car with my good hand to help Javik.

_“Shepard? My instruments say your car’s stopped.”_

I glanced around. We stood on a terrace, about thirty meters up on the left wall of the Presidium ring. Our section had just come under attack, and chaos roared on all sides. Civilians screamed and ran for cover. Some of them fell to Cerberus fire. A Cerberus shuttle soared down to our level, deploying troops onto the terrace in our path.

All three of us moved for cover and prepared to fight our way through.

“Yeah, we’re on foot now,” Shepard reported as he checked his shotgun. “Any luck contacting the Council?”

_“Negative. Their guards are dead. I’m still showing positive vital signs on the transponders for Sparatus, Tevos, and Udina, worse luck.”_

Shepard gestured to Javik and me, ordering us to advance and take up new cover. “Are they still heading for the shuttle landing above Shalmar Plaza?”

_“That’s right. If Udina can get them within range of that assassin, this is all over.”_

“We’re not far from there. Facing resistance. We’ll move as fast as we can.”

 _“Shepard!”_ I shouted, pointing ahead.

Slim and female, wearing body-hugging armor, carrying a sword much like Kai Leng’s. Suddenly I remembered the female assassin who had almost killed me on Kahje. She _charged_ us, nimbly dodging Javik’s weapons fire, protected by a rock-solid biotic barrier. As she approached, she disappeared behind a tactical cloak, although her invisibility didn’t quite measure up to Leng’s.

Shepard brought his shotgun to bear, with commentary. “What” – _CRASH –_ “is this sudden fascination” – _CRASH_ – “that Cerberus has” – _CRASH_ – “with edged weapons?”

“I don’t know,” I answered, catching Javik’s eye to coordinate a _dark-channel_ -and-warp combination on the onrushing swordswoman. “That’s a monowire blade. Very dangerous, even against heavy armor.”

Our combined biotic attack blasted the woman’s barrier into oblivion, tearing down her cloak, rocking her back on her heels, and disrupting her ability to dodge. Shepard’s next shotgun blast tore her to shreds.

We advanced. There was a _lot_ of gunfire in the air, and Cerberus didn’t cluster close enough together for Shepard to risk exposing himself for a vanguard’s charge. So instead he moved swiftly from one point of cover to the next, blasting away with his shotgun, while Javik and I harassed the enemy with gunfire and biotics.

We prepared to move into the next section of the terrace. Suddenly, Shepard back-pedaled desperately into cover. I saw two _more_ slim female figures with swords, charging us with the quick agility of dancers.

“Or maybe someone in Cerberus has a catsuit-and-sword fetish,” I said in disgust, rapid-firing warps at the oncoming assassins.

“That’s a little more insight into the Illusive Man’s mind than I ever wanted,” said Shepard, leaning out to deliver a shotgun blast. “At least they’re easy to take out, once their barriers go down.”

Then he saw some opportunity, leaned forward, and blurred into a devastating flash-charge. Javik and I followed on foot, sending a wave of blue-and-green biotic force along to clear Shepard’s flanks.

We punched through the Cerberus formation, Shalmar Plaza visible not far ahead of us. Cerberus had sealed the main passageway into the plaza, but Shepard soon found an alternate route. We made our way thorough planters, hustled along a service access, and jumped a gap in the railing along the very outer edge of the terrace. Finally we emerged onto the plaza, already looking around for an elevator up to the shuttle landings.

_WHAM!_

“Atlas!” shouted Shepard, already diving for cover.

It deployed almost on top of us. We scattered, cowering behind cover, suddenly unable to coordinate our attack.

Fortunately Shepard saw that we didn’t have to. “It’s alone. Pack tactics! Hit it with everything you’ve got!”

The Atlas could only face one direction at a time. Javik acted as bait, risking the mech’s devastating rocket strike to hold its pilot’s attention. Meanwhile Shepard and I worked our way around behind, emerging to hammer the mech with shotgun blasts, biotic shockwaves, and the most powerful warps I could muster. After a few moments of this, the pilot must have become concerned, but he could only turn around with slow, ponderous steps.

“Fall back,” Shepard commanded, hurling an incendiary grenade to explode against the pilot’s canopy. Already weakened, the canopy shattered, letting the ball of plasma into the pilot’s compartment.

That was enough to trigger the mech’s self-destruct sequence. From the sound, the pilot found that a mercy.

“Bailey, we’re in Shalmar Plaza. Where’s the Council?”

 _“In an elevator, heading for the shuttle landing. Someone’s following them.”_ The C-Sec officer paused. _“Someone with a sword?”_

“There seems to be a lot of that going around today,” said Shepard. “Can you get us an elevator?”

_“Will do. About twenty meters ahead and to your left, up a flight of stairs.”_

“I see it.”

We hurried, up the stairs, back to the lifts. Just in time to see four Cerberus assassins enter one of the lifts ahead of us. Three of the anonymous sword-bearing females, and Kai Leng.

Shepard growled and charged forward, just a moment too late. The lift door closed on Leng’s smiling face.

“Damn it. What does it take to _kill_ that bastard?”

I went to the adjacent lift doors, wedged my fingers into the partition, and called up my biotics. The doors slammed open, revealing a dark shaft behind. “Commander Bailey,” I called into the comm channel. “We’re about to get on top of car number two. Get ready to move it to the top of the tower.”

“ _Got it.”_

We jumped into the shaft, arranging ourselves on top of the elevator car, turning on our omni-tool lights.

“There is little cover,” Javik observed.

“Hopefully we won’t need it,” said Shepard. “Bailey, we’re in the shaft.”

_“Okay. Hang on, this’ll be a fast climb.”_

The car lurched into motion. All three of us staggered slightly, but then the acceleration stopped and we could regain our feet.

“Bailey? Please tell me that assassin hasn’t reached the Council.”

_“He’s trying, but I’m making his car stop on every floor.”_

Javik made a gruff bark of amusement.

Another moment, and then we could see Leng’s car in the adjacent shaft, approaching fast as our car rose more swiftly. Shepard’s eyes narrowed as he examined the other car, then he pointed. “Take out those power conduits on the bottom!”

Shepard got one with his shotgun. I got the other with a biotic warp. Leng’s car slammed to a stop, rushing down past us with a screeching noise and a burst of wind.

“Good riddance,” said Javik with satisfaction.

Fortunately I happened to glance over my shoulder, into the shaft on the other side. Another car descended to our level, with someone riding on its top.

“Another assassin!” I shouted, and flung a warp at the enemy.

The woman shouted, an oddly mechanical sound, and prepared to leap across the gap to our car.

Shepard uncoiled directly in her path, discharging his Claymore in her face at point-blank range.

Her barriers were strong, but not _that_ strong, especially after my warp had softened them. She flew back in a fountain of blood, smashing into the wall of the shaft behind her and vanishing.

“Shotgun beats sword,” he said, working the slide of his weapon with a satisfying _click._

_“Shepard! Bad news.”_

“Is there any other kind?”

_“That hit man jumped to another elevator, and he’s overridden my controls. He’s on his way up and I can’t stop him.”_

“We’ll handle it,” said Shepard confidently.

“Here they come!” shouted Javik.

Once more we saw a car approaching, its power conduits exposed. This time we had some practice to call upon. Shepard attacked one conduit, Javik and I the other, and the car went screeching off into the darkness.

_“Shepard?”_

Another car. By process of elimination, this _had_ to be the one carrying the Council.

“I see them. _Jump!”_

Shepard led us across the gap, landing on the other car’s roof with a _thump_. I glanced down for just an instant as I made my own jump, my heart freezing at the sight of the abyss beneath us.

Then we all rolled frantically to avoid gunshots, punching through the car’s roof. Someone inside was firing at us blind.

Suddenly the car lurched to a stop, throwing all three of us off our feet.

Javik stood too close to the edge. I had to reach out frantically with my biotics to prevent him from going over.

Shepard attacked the maintenance hatch, prying it out of its housing with desperate speed. It fell into the car with a great _clang_. He threw himself after it, drawing his sidearm as he went.

I heard a familiar voice as I jumped down in Shepard’s wake: “Damn it, Cerberus hit the shuttle! Everyone back to the elevator!”

_Ashley?_

We emerged onto the shuttle landing, weapons drawn. I slapped the door control, locking the door down behind us.

Ashley Williams stood before us, her own sidearm drawn, her eyes going wide with surprise at our appearance. A few meters behind her stood the remaining Councilors, all of them watching in fear and confusion.

“Shepard?”

“Shepard’s blocking our escape!” said Udina. “He’s with Cerberus!”

I narrowed my eyes at him, that politician’s face and voice, concealing a lie behind bland plausibility.

Ashley interposed herself between us and the Councilors, her sidearm at the ready. “Everybody hang on. Shepard, what’s happening here?”

Shepard lowered his weapon slightly.

I didn’t. Udina remained in my sights.

“You know me better than that, Ash.”

Ashley shook her head. “I knew the _old_ Shepard. Before Cerberus. Right now, I’m not sure who I’m dealing with.”

Shepard rose out of his gunfighter’s crouch, lowered his weapon entirely. He gestured for Javik and me to do the same. After an instant’s wide-eyed disbelief, we obeyed.

“We don’t have time to _negotiate,”_ he said. “You’ve been fooled, all of you. _Udina_ is behind this attack. Councilor Valern confirmed it.”

Ashley didn’t shift her focus, but I saw her eyes narrow with speculation. Sparatus and Tevos weren’t as discreet. Both of them turned to stare at Udina.

“Please,” said the human Councilor, his voice full of pained skepticism. “You have no proof. You _never_ do.”

“There are Cerberus assassins in the elevator shaft behind us,” Shepard snapped, pointing with a dramatic gesture. “If you open that door, they’ll do their best to kill us all.”

I watched the Councilors: Udina’s face unreadable, Sparatus and Tevos showing signs of dawning comprehension.

“We’ve mistrusted Shepard before,” said Tevos finally, “and it did _not_ help us.”

“We don’t have time to debate this!” Udina turned, headed for a control panel mounted on a stand several meters away. “We’re all dead if we stay out here. I’m overriding the lock.”

Shepard brought his sidearm to bear once more, aiming past Ashley, putting Udina in his sights. Javik and I followed suit, fanning out to both sides so that Ashley couldn’t interfere with all of us.

Ashley’s face was a battlefield. Her lips pulled back from her teeth in a snarl. “I’m gonna regret this.”

Then she stood down, turning away from us to face Udina.

“No,” said Shepard quietly. “You’re not.”

“Councilor!” Ashley strode over, stopping only a few steps away from Udina, her sidearm trained on the human. “Step away from the console.”

“To hell with this,” Udina growled. He pounced on the console, began to undo my lock on the door.

“Donnel, please.” Tevos stepped forward, carefully staying out of Ashley’s line of fire, and rested a gentle hand on Udina’s arm. “Let’s reason this out.”

Udina lashed out, shoving the asari back. She lost her balance and fell to the floor. He drew a pistol and began to level it at her.

 _“Gun!”_ shouted Ashley.

Shepard shot the Councilor.

One shot, fired from the hip, at a range of over a dozen meters. A crimson bloom appeared on Udina’s chest, directly over his heart.

Udina’s eyes flew wide. The gun fell from his nerveless fingers. He toppled.

Shepard strode forward. “Get the Council back, and _cover that door!”_

All of us took cover, our weapons pointing at the door, ready to fight. Ashley took a position in our line, ready to defend the remaining Councilors with her life. Even the Councilors prepared, Sparatus picking up Udina’s discarded pistol, Tevos calling up a formidable biotic corona.

Sparks flew from the door. Someone forcing it open from the other side.

Shepard called up his own biotics, ready to flash-charge into the teeth of the Cerberus attack . . .

The door opened. Cerberus failed to make an appearance.

Fortunately Shepard had superb reflexes. He immediately dropped both corona and weapon, and rose from cover. “Bailey?”

Ashley lowered her own sidearm, suddenly smiling with unexpected warmth.

Bailey stepped out onto the landing stage, glancing past us to take in the situation, Garrus and three other C-Sec officers right behind him. “Made it as fast as we could, Shepard. Although it looks like you, uh, took care of things.”

“Something is not right,” said Tevos. “You said Cerberus was targeting us, that they were in the elevator shaft. Where did their soldiers go?”

“Cerberus _was_ right here,” said Bailey. “They beat feet into the keeper tunnels when they figured out we were coming. Sorry, Councilor. I’ll say it plain: Shepard and his people just saved the lot of you.”

“Then you have saved my life twice now,” said Sparatus. “Commander, I owe you a great personal debt, as well as one on behalf of Palaven.”

Tevos nodded in silent agreement.

He was my bondmate. I knew him better than anyone in the galaxy. I could see it, the instant of temptation, the urge to remind the Councilors of all the _years_ they had spent dismissing him, belittling him, calling him a liar or worse.

Then, with no more than a gleam in his eyes, he set it all aside.

“You don’t owe me anything, Councilor. This is a time when we all have to stand together.”

If just a _hint_ of stress could be heard on that statement, he could be forgiven. I saw a flicker in the turian Councilor’s eyes as he nodded in firm agreement, indicating that he had heard and acknowledged the unspoken message. “Commander, do you have any idea why the Illusive Man would do this?”

“No. I don’t.” Shepard shifted his stance, as if taking up a burden. “But I intend to find out.”

Sparatus nodded again. “Good.”

“All right, people, principals are ready for evac, and we got a tunnel and a million more places to secure. Let’s move it.” Bailey gestured for his men to escort the Councilors to safety, clearing the landing stage, leaving Udina’s body to look rather small and pathetic behind them.

Shepard caught Ashley’s eye. She stood uncertainly, nothing of her usual brash confidence in her face.

He extended his hand, a gesture of forgiveness and trust.

After a moment, she took it.

* * *

**_6 May 2186, Huerta Memorial Hospital/Citadel_ **

Huerta Memorial was frantically busy, hundreds of injuries and trauma cases clogging the corridors and every available room. Shepard and I forged our way through the masses of people, searching without much hope.

“Can I help you?” said a human physician in surgeon’s gear.

“I’m looking for a drell named Thane Krios,” said Shepard gratefully.

The doctor checked a datapad, scanning through patient listings. “Well, we have a drell, but not under that name.”

“He was sent here with a stab wound.” Shepard’s voice began to show stress. “He’s a regular patient. I’ve visited him here before.”

The doctor made a placating gesture. “It’s all right, it’s all right. I believe I know who you’re talking about. He’s right here in this ward, actually. I’m one of the attending physicians on his case.”

“Thank God. What can you tell us?”

“We were able to repair much of the trauma. Unfortunately, Mister, um, Krios is in the final stages of Kepral’s Syndrome. That interferes with his blood’s ability to carry oxygen, and he’s lost a lot. They’ve given him transfusions, but frankly, there’s a very limited supply of drell blood on the Citadel.”

Shepard nodded, glancing at me for an instant. “We’ll get more. Give me his blood type.”

The doctor shook his head sadly. “That’s not going to work. There are so few drell on the Citadel. There’s only one with a matching blood type, and he’s already donated as much as he can. We did all we could to help him through surgery, but his body simply isn’t replacing the lost blood. Too much shock.”

“Are you saying there’s nothing to be done?” I asked.

“I’m afraid so, miss.” The doctor sighed in defeat. “His son is in there now, saying his goodbyes. You might want to say yours.”

I reached out and took Shepard’s hand, ignoring the tears that sprang up in my eyes.

Together we stepped into a nearby room: brightly lit, looking out across the Presidium, but very austere. Thane Krios lay in a recovery bed, his eyes closed, fighting simply to breathe. Beside the bed stood another drell I didn’t know, tall, his scales bluish rather than bright green in cast, gently holding Thane’s hand.

“Hello, Kolyat,” said Shepard quietly.

“Commander Shepard.” Kolyat Krios turned to watch us with his fathomless black eyes. “My father told me you were on the Citadel. That you fought beside him today, against Cerberus. Thank you for being here.”

“This is my wife, Liara T’Soni.”

I nodded silently, not trusting myself to speak.

“My father has mentioned you as well, Dr. T’Soni.” The young drell bowed his head. “Thank you.”

“How is your father?” asked Shepard.

“He’s resting. He asked me to remove his oxygen mask so he could be more comfortable.” Kolyat sighed, his shoulders slumping in dejection. “I don’t think it will be very long.”

“Your father helped us save a lot of lives today. We’d like to be here for him.”

“Of course, Commander.” Kolyat stepped aside, permitted us to approach the bed.

We looked down at Thane. I remembered meeting the drell assassin on Illium, the oddly _principled_ manner in which he had accepted my commission to eliminate Nassana Dantius. From Shepard’s memories I knew what an immense help he had been during the war against the Collectors. Shepard regarded him as a comrade in arms, almost as a brother, perhaps recognizing something of himself in the drell’s checkered history.

“Commander. Dr. T’Soni.” Thane’s voice had almost failed, a weak rasp. “I’m afraid I won’t be joining you again.”

“You’ve done _more_ than enough, Thane,” said Shepard, a quiet valediction.

“Hmm. That Cerberus assassin should be embarrassed. A terminally ill drell managed to prevent him from reaching his target.”

“That’s one message I’ll be very happy to pass along.”

Thane looked up at Shepard for a long moment. “There is something I must do before it gets worse. I must . . .”

Then an outbreak of violent coughing wracked his body.

 _Goddess, the pain he must be suffering_.

Kolyat bowed his head, cupping his hands together in an attitude of prayer.

Finally, the dying drell managed to regain control of his breathing once more. His eyes closed, his face tense, he began to speak, almost to chant in a hoarse whisper. “Kalahira, mistress of inscrutable depths, I ask forgiveness. Kalahira, whose waves wear down stone and sand . . .”

He could not go on, his lungs going into spasm once more.

Another voice, calm and smooth: “Kalahira, wash the sins from this one, and set him on the distant shore of the infinite spirit.”

Kolyat, taking up the burden of his father’s prayer.

Thane fell back on the bed, at peace for the moment. He opened his eyes and looked up at his son. “Kolyat. You speak as the priests do. Have you been spending time with them?”

The younger drell nodded.

“Good.” Thane closed his eyes once more, a beatific smile spreading across his features. “Good.”

Kolyat stepped around to our side of the bed once more, producing a small leather-bound book. “Commander, I brought a prayer book. It includes a translation into your language. Would you join me?”

“Of course,” said Shepard.

I stepped close, taking Shepard’s free arm and leaning my head on his shoulder as he looked down at Kolyat’s book.

“Kalahira,” the young drell continued, “this one’s heart is pure, but beset by wickedness and contention . . .”

Shepard took up the prayer: “Guide this one to where the traveler never tires, the lover never leaves, and the hungry never starve. Guide this one, Kalahira, and he will be a companion to you, as he was to me.”

Thane nodded slightly, and then turned his head to the side, to look out the window at the Presidium.

One last breath, like a sigh heard in a dream, and he left us.

Shepard reached out to close his eyes. We all stood for a long moment in reverent silence.

“Kolyat?” Shepard asked finally. “There’s something I don’t understand. His last moments were those of a hero. Why pray for salvation?”

“The prayer was not for him, Commander. He has already asked forgiveness for the lives he has taken.” Kolyat turned to glance at Shepard’s face. “His wish was for you.”

Shepard looked down at his friend one last time. “Goodbye, Thane. You won’t be alone long.”

Then he turned away, leaving Kolyat in silent prayer.

We moved out into the corridor, and got perhaps five or six steps away before Shepard simply _stopped_. He stood there, his back to me for the moment, head bowed and shoulders down, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides.

 _Damn Cerberus to hell_.

I moved around him and glanced up into his face.

Then I stood in his arms, holding him tightly, his free hand cradling my head against his shoulder, while his body trembled and the tears ran down his face like rain. For a long time we stood there, surrounded by the frantic activity of physicians trying to save lives, the misery of the suffering and the dying.


	23. Night Talk

**_6 May 2186, Presidium Docking Ring/Citadel_ **

“Shepard.”

Silence. I wondered for a moment if he had fallen asleep, but then I listened to his breathing and knew better. I lifted my head from his shoulder to look into his face, and saw his eyes gleaming in the light from the Widow Nebula, shining through the window above us.

“Shepard?”

“What is it, Liara?”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.” His chest moved under my right hand, a deep breath. “No. Why do you ask?”

“Something you said today, while we were at the hospital. I didn’t think about it at the time, but as the hours passed it began to concern me.”

“Hmm.” His right hand came up behind me, brushing along my spine before it rested warm and strong on my shoulder. “Let me guess: when I said goodbye to Thane.”

“You said _he wouldn’t be alone long.”_ I shifted slightly, pressing closer to him. “It sounded rather fatalistic.”

“I suppose so.” He stared up at the window for a few more moments. “I will admit to some doubts.”

“About whether you’re going to survive?”

“About whether _any of us_ will. The Reapers are bad enough. With Cerberus stabbing us in the back every chance they get? I’m not seeing any way to win this.”

I propped myself up on one elbow to look down at his face. “Does it matter?”

“I suppose not.” He shrugged, reached up to run his thumb across my cheek. “It doesn’t really make any difference. We have to keep fighting. Have to keep hoping that God, or the Protheans, or sheer blind chance will come through for us. It’s all we have. I still have doubts.”

I bent close to kiss him. “We all have doubts. That just shows we’re alive. Only the Reapers are always absolutely certain about everything. But even they can be _wrong.”_

“I suppose.”

He fell silent once more. I lay close to him, my head on his shoulder, my arm over his chest, my leg slipped between his, and just enjoyed the warmth of his presence.

“There’s more to it, isn’t there?” I asked after a while.

“I guess so.” He brought his other arm around to embrace me. “I’m getting very tired of watching other people pay for my mistakes.”

“You’re thinking of Thane.”

“I’m thinking of a _lot_ of people. All the millions who die, every day that we fail to bring this war to an end. Three hundred thousand who died on Aratoht, because I couldn’t figure out a way to save them. All the good soldiers we lost on Tuchanka, because my plan went south. All the people who’ve died under my own command since Eden Prime. Kaidan. Mordin, and yes, Thane.”

I held him quietly, knowing that more words would come.

“I fucked up today.”

More silence.

“When Kai Leng threw that knife at you, I knew it was a distraction. I knew I had to keep my eyes on him, even if he _killed_ you. _I_ should have been the one going toe-to-toe with that Cerberus bastard. Not a sick, dying man who had already done more than enough for one lifetime.” He sighed deeply. “For an instant, I couldn’t think of anything but you. I let Leng distract me. Thane had to step in to save the councilor, and that killed him. It’s my fault.”

“No. It’s Kai Leng’s fault. It’s the Illusive Man’s fault. Not yours.”

“Yeah, well, the enemy is always going to do his best to hurt us. That’s why he’s called _the enemy_. We’re supposed to be faster, stronger, and smarter than they are.”

I shook my head. “Shepard, you’ve been a soldier for years. You know better than to think you can win every single time.”

“True.” He chuckled grimly. “It still stings like hell when I lose. Especially when people I care about have to pay the price.”

“I certainly know _that_ feeling,” I told him, remembering Ferris Fields.

“T’Soni, you’re starting to talk like an old soldier yourself.”

“Goddess forbid. You are clearly a bad influence.”

“Hmm.” He took a deep breath, and I could feel his lips brush the top of my crest. “Don’t worry, love. I know what a situation like this calls for. You own your mistake. You learn from it. You move on and keep fighting.”

“Yes,” I breathed.

Finally we slept.

* * *

**_7 May 2186, Presidium Docking Ring/Citadel_ **

The attempted Cerberus coup threw the galaxy’s power structures into chaos. Yet the aftermath, our successful intervention to save the Council opened some doors that had thus far remained closed.

For the first time, Councilors Tevos and Valern began open cooperation with the anti-Reaper alliance, committing asari and salarian resources to the fight. In return, the Council and the Spectre Corps wanted insight into Cerberus capabilities and intentions. Shepard found himself much in demand, presenting what he knew at meeting after meeting. Calls came in to _Normandy_ as well, seeking the Shadow Broker’s advice, through me as “his senior representative.” Samantha Traynor and I spent many hours collating intelligence data for presentation to the Council.

Meanwhile, the choice of who should replace Donnel Udina became the major question of the day. At first, the surviving councilors seemed reluctant to elevate _any_ human, at least while the investigation into Udina’s activities continued. Then a breakthrough apparently took place in closed session, wherein Sparatus proposed inviting _Shepard_ to serve as the human Councilor. One of my covert contacts gave me about five minutes’ warning of that proposal. In turn, I made a frantic call to Shepard to forewarn _him_. Thus when the Council contacted him, he could turn down the invitation gracefully, and make a sound counter-proposal.

Since the demise of the Alliance Parliament on the first day of the war, Ambassador Dominic Osoba had acted as the interim Foreign Minister of the Alliance. He had a reputation as a talented diplomat, clever and intelligent, with none of Udina’s dishonesty or power-lust. No one could find any sign of Cerberus sympathy on his part. Both Shepard and Admiral Hackett knew and trusted him. To be sure, he was not an ideal candidate. Since the Reaper attack he had shown signs of _fragility_ , hollowed out by shock and personal loss. Yet when the Council offered him the chance to succeed Udina, he seemed to rally and accepted the opportunity.

Osoba would not have all of Udina’s authority. The new acting Prime Minister of the Alliance would be the former Minister of Education, traveling away from Arcturus Station on the first day of the war, now under Admiral Hackett’s protection. Even so, Osoba would be able to carry out Udina’s most critical function: liaison between the Citadel Council and the turian-krogan-human _concord_ that bore the bulk of the fighting against the Reapers.

* * *

Long after the end of his shift, Shepard finally returned to _Normandy_. When he arrived, he immediately called for a late-evening meeting of senior staff. Samantha and I arrived in the conference center to find Engineer Adams, Lieutenant Vega, and Garrus already waiting.

Three minutes later, Shepard appeared, striding along the corridor to enter the conference center. Another officer followed about two steps behind him, wearing a formal uniform with both Alliance and Council insignia on her breast.

“At ease,” he commanded the moment he crossed the threshold. “This is Lieutenant Commander Ashley Williams, whom I believe most of you know. Given her role in yesterday’s events, her appointment as a Council Spectre has been upheld. At her request, I have accepted her reassignment to _Normandy,_ effective immediately.”

This provoked a round of handshakes and warm greetings for Ashley. As it happened, only Samantha had no prior acquaintance, but she welcomed our friend as well.

“Lieutenant Adams, Lieutenant Vega, Commander Williams is senior to you both. I’m therefore posting her as our new Executive Officer and commander of the Marine detachment, again effective immediately. This is not a reflection on either of you or your performance.”

“Not a problem, Loco.” James grinned at Ashley, but he also gave her a crisp salute. “Glad to have you back, Commander.”

Ashley smiled back. “Thanks, Vega.”

Shepard turned to the engineer. “Adams?”

“No objections here, sir. It’ll give me more time to mother the engines.”

“Speaking of which, I also found some help for you down in the engine room. Gabriella Daniels and Ken Donnelly are back in Alliance uniform. I saw them in Admiral Saneyoshi’s replacement queue, so I snapped them up for you. They’ll report aboard tomorrow morning.”

“The two engineers you had on board last year?” I noticed that Adams very carefully did not say _while you were with Cerberus_. “That’s great news, Commander. I like what I’ve heard about Daniels in particular.”

“Glad to hear it. All right, Adams, Vega, you’re both dismissed.”

The two men nodded and left.

“All right, now for the next item of business. EDI, is Admiral Hackett available?”

“ _Yes, Commander. Patching him through to you from the QEC.”_

The admiral must have expected our call. Less than ten seconds passed before the conference room screen darkened and we saw his image.

_“Shepard. I understand you have some news for me?”_

“I do, sir, and it may suggest our next assignment.”

_“Go ahead, Commander.”_

“Among everything else today, I had an encounter with an old acquaintance. Ka’hairal Balak.”

I gasped in surprise, remembering an incident from three years before. “He’s still alive?”

“Much to my surprise. Admiral, the _first_ news I have for you is that what’s left of the batarian navy is going to come in to the alliance. Balak is apparently the Hegemony’s senior surviving military officer. I was able to persuade him to join us.”

_“Not going to ask how you managed that, Commander, but it’s still welcome news. How much of a force does Balak have to offer?”_

“Not much, sir. The Reapers nearly annihilated them over Khar’Shan.”

“Admiral, my own network confirms that the Hegemony has suffered _horrible_ losses,” I said. “The few reports I have out of their space suggest that the batarian species itself may be on the verge of extinction. The few million refugees fleeing into Alliance and Council space may be most of what remains.”

Hackett looked even more grim than usual. _“All right. I’ll assign Captain Marshall to coordinate with Balak and any other officers he can designate. I’ll also call Councilor Osoba and ask him to work with his colleagues to free up resources for batarian refugees. Sticks in my craw to extend a helping hand in that specific direction, but there’s no denying we need anyone who will fight, and batarians will certainly do that. Besides, as bad off as we humans are, we have at least a few more months before_ we _stare extinction in the face. That puts us in a position to extend a little charity.”_

“That was my assessment as well. Thank you, sir.”

_“You said that was just the first piece of news. What else?”_

“Balak had an interesting story to tell. Do you remember Dr. T’Soni’s concerns before we left for the Bahak system?”

Hackett’s eyebrows lowered, giving him the look of a predatory avian spying its next meal. _“Something about the so-called ‘Leviathan of Dis.’ She conjectured that the batarians recovered a dead Reaper, and their contact with it exposed their scientists and military officials to indoctrination.”_

“Balak confirmed that hypothesis in every detail.” Shepard shook his head. “Apparently when the Reapers arrived at Khar’Shan, a lot of batarians who had been in contact with the Leviathan acted to tear down the Hegemony’s defenses. That’s how the attack succeeded so quickly and completely.”

_“Interesting, but what does that buy us now?”_

Shepard hesitated for a moment, then visibly gathered his courage and forged ahead. “Sir, I’m interested in what the Leviathan story implies. A billion years ago, something _killed_ a Reaper. How?”

_“I would presume by applying a great deal of kinetic damage. That’s how all the dead Reapers we know about got that way.”_

“Maybe. What if there’s something more to it?”

_“Your point, Commander.”_

“We can’t defeat the Reapers by conventional means. Sure, they’re not _absolutely_ impenetrable. So far in this war we’ve verified several Reaper kills. The problem is there are just too many of them, and they can easily afford to trade one of themselves for a whole task force of our ships. Most of the time the ratio isn’t even that far in our favor.” He glanced at me for just an instant, and then went on. “Our second option is the Crucible, but sir, I’m not sure we should put all our eggs in that one basket.”

_“Explain.”_

“Sir, think through the sequence of events. We know the Reapers are coming, we _know_ there’s no way for us to defeat them by conventional means. We’re desperate. Then, just in the nick of time, Liara finds the plans for the Crucible, handed down to us from the Protheans. The timing stinks.”

I shook my head and spoke up. “Commander, it may seem like coincidence, but that’s an illusion. We could not have discovered the Crucible earlier, because no one had the Cipher earlier. Without the Cipher, no clear translation of Prothean texts. Without a certain amount of desperation, driven by our awareness of the Reapers, there would have been no reason to search out those texts that discussed the Crucible.”

“Maybe,” said Shepard. “I still think we’re being played.”

I blinked, suddenly aware that my bondmate and I had fallen into a debate in front of our friends and the admiral. “By whom?”

“Think about it. We got the Crucible design from the Protheans. Apparently they got it from their precursors, the _inusannon_. They got it from their _own_ precursors, according to Javik. Where did _they_ get it?”

I saw it then. “You think the Reapers are behind it.”

“Call it a nasty suspicion. If _Sovereign_ wasn’t trying to snow us, the Reapers have been at this game for _billions_ of years. Tens of thousands of extinction cycles. They must have backup plans for their backup plans. Wouldn’t it be just like them to _leak_ the plans for this device? Give us vermin some false hope, a white elephant to soak up our last resources while they finish the task of extermination? Maybe even something that turns out to be the final stab in the back?”

_“Commander, is it your opinion that we should_ not _build and deploy the Crucible?”_

“No, sir. It’s still the best chance we have. I would still be happier if we knew more about it. I would also be happier if we could find some alternatives, just in case. There’s a dead Reaper out there that we don’t _know_ was just the victim of concentrated conventional weapons fire. With the krogan committed to the war, _Normandy_ isn’t needed for front-line operations at the moment. I want to go investigate.”

Just in time, I caught the glimmer in Admiral Hackett’s eye. It reminded me of the day I had first met him aboard Arcturus Station. On that occasion, I had watched while the admiral skillfully tested Shepard, before giving him exactly what he had wanted in the first place.

_Watch out, Shepard, he’s about to do it to you again._

_“Dr. T’Soni, do you concur?”_

“Yes, Admiral.” I spoke with confidence, playing my part in the admiral’s gambit. “Shepard and I haven’t discussed this in detail, but it makes a great deal of sense to me.”

_“Can you and your network continue to support the Crucible project while_ Normandy _goes hunting?”_

“Certainly.”

“ _All right then, Shepard. I agree as well, and I believe I have resources that may be of use to you.”_

Then Shepard saw it too. A smile flickered at the corners of his mouth. “What do you have in mind, sir?”

_“I want you to contact Dr. Garret Bryson, on the Citadel. He’s heading up a task force to investigate the Reapers. I believe he is several weeks ahead of you on this line of reasoning.”_

“Garret is on the Citadel?” I remembered the last time I had seen the human archaeologist. He and I had been working together on a dig in the Eramethos Mountains, uncovering the first clear evidence of Prothean visits to ancient Thessia. He had departed after about two months of work, speaking of a job offer from Admiral Hackett.

_“That’s correct, Doctor. He’s been working for me for two years now. His results have been very close-held, but I think it’s time all of you got read in. Go talk to him. I think you’ll find his work very interesting.”_

Shepard nodded. “Thank you, Admiral. We’ll go see him in the morning, and I’ll keep you informed of our progress.”

_“Good work, Commander. Keep the faith. The gods of war haven’t given up on us yet.”_

* * *

“What’s this, Liara?”

I glanced up from where I sat on the edge of the bed, already bathed and in a light silk tunic, ready for sleep. Shepard had emerged from the refresher cubicle, wrapped in a towel, but something sitting on the desk had caught his eye.

“Oh. That. It’s a project I’ve been working on. I wasn’t quite ready to show you . . .”

“That’s okay,” he assured me. “It can wait.”

I rose and walked over to the office area, brushing his lips with mine in passing. I picked up what he had seen, a piece of custom-built equipment just big enough to need both hands. “No, now that you mention it, there’s something I wanted to ask you about. Let’s sit down at the table.”

“Okay.”

I padded back down the stairs, carrying the unit, Shepard following along in bemused curiosity. I set the unit down on the table and worked with its controls to put it in ready mode, while he made himself comfortable on the couch.

“It started with something Javik said, actually. It made me think about everything we’ve learned about the Reapers, and how easily it could all be lost again. So I put a plan in motion to preserve things for the future.”

The unit began to emit a blue-white glow. Then a holographic image sprang into existence above it, just a pillar of light for the moment, but pregnant with possibilities. I stood and took a half-step back, watching Shepard’s face.

“What’s this?” asked Shepard, leaning forward and watching with interest.

“A record of the galaxy in our time. Information on the Reapers, the relay network, different cultures. A full set of blueprints for the Crucible . . .”

The hologram changed as I spoke, riffling through some of the images I had stored in the unit: a _Sovereign-_ class Reaper, a map of the galaxy, an image of the Crucible.

“. . . but there’s one entry I wanted your opinion on.”

“Which one?”

I smiled at him and bent down to touch the controls once more. The hologram changed once more, becoming an image of Shepard in his undress uniform. “Your own.”

“You’re putting _me_ in a _time capsule?”_

“You’re not the only individual I’m going to include, of course. There are already hundreds of biographical sketches in here. But since in this case I have the subject close at hand, I’d be honored to have your input. How would you like history to remember you?”

He cocked his head, clearly intrigued by the idea. “Are you sure it will work? Fifty thousand years is a long time for a computer to sit around, and still be in working condition.”

“Please. I _am_ an archaeologist, or at least I was once. I know what I’m doing. I’ve designed a very tough outer casing for each unit. They’ll be seeded on as many planets as the Shadow Broker’s network can reach. And while it’s not foolproof, the VI I’m installing has every translation and linguistics program I could find.”

“So it’s your version of the Vigil system on Ilos?”

“Something like that. I’ve been preparing it for some time.”

A touch of a key, and a copy of Glyph appeared embedded in the holographic matrix. _“It will be a privilege to assist the future discoverers of these records,”_ said the drone. _“Commander, have you decided what you would like Dr. T’Soni to record in your entry?”_

He thought about it for a moment, and then shook his head. “You know me well enough to fill in the blanks, Liara.”

Somehow I had not expected that reaction. I stood, cocking my head to watch him where he sat. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’d like it to be your call.”

“Well.” I began to pace the floor, deep in thought. “I’ll say that Commander Shepard grew up on Mindoir. He never let what happened there rob him of his compassion or his sense of justice, but it drove him to become an exceptional soldier. He became a powerful biotic, nearly unstoppable when he charged into a fight. He was also a leader, one who made peace whenever he could.”

I stopped and looked back at him, held his gaze for a pregnant moment.

“And it was a great privilege to know him.”

He chuckled. “Careful. You’re making this sound like a eulogy.”

I crossed the room to sit at his side, leaning close and taking his hand. “I can’t help it. I’ve admired you greatly ever since I met you.”

“Hmm. You’re not so bad yourself, T’Soni.” He leaned back, watching the tiny motes of light given off by the unit’s projector, like stars drifting in space. “Anything I’ve accomplished in the last three years, it’s been because you supported me. You’ve saved my life more times than I can count.”

“I haven’t _always_ been there for you. When you came to Illium, I left you to fight alone because I had too many of my own problems to solve. I still regret that.”

“It worked out. You more than made up for it later.”

“Well.” I smiled and gave him a sly glance. “I suppose I _did_ just write your name in the stars.”


	24. A Creature Without Fear

**_8 May 2186, Task Force Aurora Facility/Citadel_ **

Garret Bryson’s task force worked out of a converted office block, low on the right wall of the Presidium. Shepard and I landed our cab on a small terrace, looked around for a moment, and then moved inside.

The main laboratory rather assaulted our senses. Garret had an extensive and _very_ eclectic collection of artifacts, scattered about a busy work area. I identified a complete plesiosaur skeleton from Earth. A petroglyph in one corner depicted a Reaper, or something of very similar shape. Several chunks of asteroidal stone rested on benches, surrounded by assay equipment. Hardcopy images and documents stuck to every free square meter of wall space, arranged in an elaborate branched network.

Right by the door, plainly labeled, lurked a three-meter fragment of _Sovereign_. I felt a momentary urge to flee for my life, or at least for my sanity, but then I saw the stasis field set up to contain the fragment.

_Garret has taken precautions against indoctrination. Or at least I hope he has._

The great archaeologist himself stood at an oversized computer console just a few meters away, paging through data and speaking to a lab assistant. “I want you to match this data set against all of our candidate locations, and update the map. Then contact the field teams for a status report.”

“Yes, Doctor.” The assistant nodded, working intently at a smaller console of his own.

Garret turned, saw us by the door. “Commander Shepard. Liara. I’ve been expecting you.”

I stepped forward to embrace him briefly. He looked much as I remembered, short and slim for a male human, always a little rumpled no matter what clothes he wore. Perhaps his face had become more deeply lined, his eyes a little more tired. “Garret. It’s so good to see you again.”

A smile spread across his normally dour face. “Likewise. I’ve been following your work on the translation of late Prothean inscriptions. That’s a breakthrough I would have loved to see years ago.”

“You’ll have to visit _Normandy_ sometime,” said Shepard. “There’s someone on my team I think you would enjoy meeting.”

“Yes, Admiral Hackett told me about that as well. _Fascinating.”_ Garret led us down a short corridor, into another room dominated by a holographic galaxy map and still more unusual artifacts. “You’re not here to chat about the Protheans, though. I apologize that we’re so busy. Most of my team is out in the field right now, investigating leads.” He made an expansive gesture with both hands, indicating the whole facility around us. “Welcome to Task Force Aurora.”

“Doctor, Liara was able to tell me a little about your previous work, but I’m not clear about the details of your current assignment.”

“Our mandate is to investigate rumors, legends, even myths. Old stories that might have been about the Reapers, dating back to long before anyone knew they existed.”

Shepard frowned. “That’s an interesting objective, but does anyone really doubt that the Reapers exist these days?”

“The Alliance is desperate for intelligence about them,” said Bryson. “Their motives, their objectives, their operational tactics, _anything_ that could give us an edge.”

“Makes sense. So how did you wind up in charge?”

“I’ve got something of a reputation, Commander. When the rest of the galaxy says something is a myth, that it can’t possibly exist, I take that as a challenge. Liara may have mentioned our work together on Thessia. Everyone said the Protheans had never visited the ancient asari. We proved otherwise.” He turned to look up at the galaxy map. “Sometimes the most important scientific truths are the ones you uncover when you look where nobody ever bothered to before.”

“Like the Reapers,” said Shepard, his eyes hooded.

“Yes. Even the Reapers have a _history,_ Commander. If we can uncover that history, we may find a weakness that we can exploit.”

My bondmate snorted in amused disgust. “I _really_ could have used your help three years ago.”

“Yes. If more people had paid attention to you and that Prothean beacon, we might not be in such desperate straits today.” Garret began to work with the controls of the galaxy map. “Now, with some of the new information we’ve uncovered, we may be near a breakthrough.”

Shepard stood with his arms folded, but I could tell it was a gesture of patience rather than skepticism.

I stepped over to look over Garret’s shoulder, watch what he was doing. Then I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.

“Hadley,” Garret called. “Do you have the Leviathan data for Commander Shepard?”

I glanced past him, saw his assistant in the doorway.

Holding a pistol.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. My right hand balled into a fist, my biotic corona surged.

Too late. Always and forever, too late.

Garret fell back against me, almost knocking me off my feet, two blood-red flowers blooming on his chest. Somehow I eased him to the floor, found myself kneeling with his head in my lap, his blood pooling around me. His eyes searched blindly, locked on mine for a moment, and then went vacant.

I heard a shout as Shepard tackled his murderer.

“This is Commander Shepard! I need C-Sec and a medical team at my location, _now!”_

The commotion seemed far away, and not very important.

_“The darkness cannot be breached . . .”_

* * *

C-Sec arrived within a few minutes, a pair of dour turians with a medical team in tow. They immediately cordoned off the lab as a crime scene. Not that there seemed to be much to investigate. Garret had been shot dead in front of two eyewitnesses, with no possible ambiguity about who had pulled the trigger.

“His ID and transit records show his name as Derek Hadley,” said one of the turians. “He’s worked here for a couple months.”

Shepard paced back and forth, tense like a caged animal, staring at the unconscious Hadley. I sat off to one side, Garret’s blood still caked on my trousers, feeling little but the dull pain of loss.

Finally Hadley stirred, blinked rapidly, and began to look around. “What . . . I . . . What’s happening?”

Shepard stood before him, arms folded, his head tipped back so he could examine the scientist down his nose. “You tell me,” he said coldly.

“I . . . I was collating the Leviathan data when you arrived. Dr. Bryson wanted to share a copy of it with you. Then . . . it was dark. Cold. Like I was someplace else.”

“And then?”

“I don’t know.” Hadley’s eyes widened, in fear or terrible confusion. “There was a gun in my hand. Dr. Bryson. A loud noise.”

“That was you. Shooting him.”

I lifted my head slightly, staring at Hadley. The look of shock and confusion on his face seemed _completely_ genuine.

_Something is not right here._

Hadley stared where Shepard pointed, where one of the turians had moved aside to reveal Garret’s body. The older scientist looked small and pathetic, lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. It suddenly reminded me of Udina, lying dead on the shuttle pad two days before.

Hadley turned deathly white, hurling himself out of his chair and down to the floor at Garret’s side, awkward as a bundle of disjointed bones. “Dr. Bryson? No! I didn’t do this. I would _never_ do something like this! You have to believe that!”

“There wasn’t anyone else here to pull the trigger, Hadley.”

“But . . .”

Stiffly, I rose from my chair and began to cross the room. “Shepard, I believe he may be telling the truth.”

Shepard frowned at me. “What makes you say that?”

“His body language doesn’t show any evidence of deception. This also reminds me of the early effects of indoctrination, when the victim’s identity has not yet been completely overridden.”

He glanced over his shoulder, in the direction of the other room, where the fragment of _Sovereign_ ominously stood.

Hadley stood, sounding lost. “Indoctrination? Me?”

“What about this _Leviathan data?”_ Shepard stepped close, to stare into Hadley’s face. “It was the last thing he asked you for. Does it have anything to do with this?”

“I don’t know. It’s some kind of creature.”

“Is it a Reaper?”

Hadley shook his head. “I don’t think so. Our field teams have been tracking it, looking for evidence of its activity.”

“What have they found?”

Hadley pointed to a far corner of the room, where a display case stored a variety of artifacts. One in particular caught my eye, a large, heavy-looking globe of some kind of rock crystal. Light shimmered in its depths, seeming to move even in the room’s steady illumination. “That artifact, for one thing. It came in a few days ago from one of our researchers, Alex Garneau. He sent an audio log, if you want to . . .”

Suddenly Hadley _screamed_ , crouching and clutching at his head with both hands, as if in abrupt agony.

“What’s wrong?” demanded Shepard.

Hadley fell to his knees, all evidence of pain gone. He spoke, but his voice had changed, turned into a deep, resonant rasp, as if his lungs had gone utterly hollow. _“Turn back.”_

“What are you talking about?”

_“The darkness cannot be breached.”_

Then Hadley pitched forward onto his face.

“Damn it.” Shepard caught the lead C-Sec officer’s eye. “Get him over to the clinic, see if they can tell us what’s wrong with him. You have enough to press charges?”

“Think so, Commander.”

“All right. I need to have a look around, see if I can figure out what the hell is going on. This is my crime scene as of now. Spectre authority.”

“Yes, sir.”

The turians bent to take hold of Hadley. His body moved limply, like that of a corpse, although I could see he still breathed. The medics carefully placed Garret’s body on a stretcher, so it could be moved. Before long, Shepard and I had the space to ourselves, nothing but the great stain of Garret’s blood on the floor to indicate he had ever been there.

Finally Shepard turned to me. “Are you all right?”

“Not really. Goddess, Shepard, if I had been a fraction of a second faster.”

He sighed. “Lot of that going around lately. Nothing to be done about it now. Liara, you’re the only person I know who might be able to make sense of all this.”

I snorted. “EDI could, and without the distractions of emotion to slow her down.”

He put a hand on my shoulder. “I need _you_ with me here, Liara.”

As so often happened, his touch seemed to lend me strength. I stood up straighter, looked him in the eye. “All right. I’ll do what I can.”

“Dr. Bryson mentioned something about _Leviathan,”_ Shepard observed. “I don’t think he was referring to the Leviathan of Dis, or he would have said so.”

“You’re right. Let me have a look at Garret’s records.”

It didn’t take long for me to find a log of communications between Task Force Aurora and Admiral Hackett. At first I only examined the pattern of calls, trying to pick out communications of particular importance. Garret had been in occasional communication with the admiral for almost two years, but then I saw a sharp spike in frequency, just _before_ the war began.

“Here, Shepard. This seems important.”

Shepard stepped up beside me, looked up at the screen where I was working.

Hackett: _“Dr. Bryson, do you have an update?”_

Bryson: _“Yes. Admiral, this story of the Leviathan of Dis? I think we’re really on to something. What records we’ve received from Alliance intelligence suggest that the Reaper found on Jartar was not killed by conventional means. Hard to tell after hundreds of millions of years, but the thing’s carapace and internal mechanisms seemed intact. I’m intrigued by the implications of that.”_

_“What could have killed a Reaper in the first place?”_

_“Exactly. That’s the real Leviathan. A creature without fear. Something that can stand up even to the Reapers.”_

_“It’s worth pursuing. Continue your investigation and keep me updated on your results.”_

I glanced at Shepard. _“A creature without fear._ That almost sounded like a literary reference. What does _Leviathan_ mean to humans?”

“It’s from ancient mythology. An enormous creature of the deep sea, supposedly all-powerful, impossible to capture or defeat in battle. I think Dr. Bryson was quoting from the book of Job.”

“All right. Here’s another one, from just a few days ago.”

Bryson: _“Admiral, the Reapers are shadowing my field teams, as if they’re hunting for Leviathan themselves. That tells me they believe it still exists, even after all this time, and still poses a threat to them. I’m convinced it’s nothing less than a Reaper-killer – an apex predator – and it has them nervous. If we could just find it! Imagine the impact on the war. I’m formally requesting assistance in tracking it down.”_

Hackett: _“You’ll have it. This is now your top priority, Doctor. Find that thing.”_

“Hmm,” I mused. “It appears _we_ were meant to be that assistance.”

“It occurs to me that anything capable of killing a Reaper could do a _lot_ of collateral damage.”

“True.” I glanced at him. “On the other hand, your concerns about the Crucible don’t apply here. If this _Leviathan_ is truly an enemy of the Reapers, we can be reasonably sure it doesn’t constitute a Reaper trap.”

“We won’t know for sure unless we find it.”

“I don’t see any more clues here, but Hadley did mention that one of Garret’s assistants sent back an artifact associated with Leviathan. Perhaps he knows more.”

“There was an audio log.” Shepard looked around, saw a datapad sitting on a bench not far from the mysterious shimmering sphere in its case. “Here it is. Header data shows it comes from an _A. Garneau.”_

_“Bryson, this is Garneau. I’m sending you an artifact I found. Almost the only thing I found there, in fact. Maybe it’s nothing, but I’d swear Leviathan visited the place, even if it was a few million years ago. I’m going to crunch some numbers, burn up the rest of my travel allowance. Maybe I can project our Reaper-killer’s movements. I’ll check in when I get to the next site.”_

“Any sign as to where Garneau was when he sent that?”

Shepard tapped at the datapad and shook his head. “No later messages, either. If Garneau found a new site to check out, he hasn’t called in yet to tell Dr. Bryson about it.”

I sighed. “A dead end, then.”

“Not necessarily. Let’s focus on what he _did_ say.”

“He mentioned extrapolating Leviathan’s path, from one planet to the next.”

“And crunching numbers.” A gleam appeared in Shepard’s eye, one I could recognize: his mind hot on a trail of logic. “He wasn’t just flying blind. He had _data.”_

A thought struck me. I crossed the room to the galaxy map, quickly finding the index file I suspected was there. “Here we go. Garret was maintaining a list of candidate star systems on this map.”

I touched a control and bright points of light appeared, scattered across most of the galaxy.

“Hmm,” Shepard grunted, scanning the map. “Twenty or so clusters. Even with _Normandy_ it would take months to search all that. Can we narrow it down?”

I looked around. “I assume this isn’t all irrelevant clutter. Garret kept these artifacts and data for a reason. Perhaps we can reconstruct some of what his project was doing.”

“Okay. Let’s look around.”

It took us about an hour to search through Garret’s lab, looking for clues. Shepard and I each had a triumph to report by the end of that time. I found a data archive tracking sightings of unusual aliens throughout the galaxy, “creatures” not known to have spaceflight capacity, yet seen on worlds many thousands of light-years apart. Shepard recovered one of Garret’s encryption keys, unlocking Alliance intelligence data on Reaper hunting patterns.

Eventually we reconvened at the galaxy map, where each of us entered the data we had found. Most of the bright points on the map faded into obscurity, eliminated by one or the other of our filters.

“Hmm,” said Shepard. “Three systems left.”

“Perhaps we can do better than that. I noticed some samples of asteroidal material in the other room, carrying traces of element zero.”

“Would Leviathan need eezo?”

I shrugged. “If it travels interstellar distances, it must have _some_ way to control its mass.”

“All right, let’s roll that in.”

One bright point remained. I worked with the console to zoom in on that region of the galaxy. “Caleston Rift cluster. It’s the Aysur star system.”

Shepard keyed his omni-tool. “EDI, call everyone back to the ship. Register a flight plan with departure at 1200 today, and use my Spectre codes to get traffic control priority. Tell Joker to set a course for the Caleston Rift.”

_“Acknowledged, Commander.”_

Shepard gave me a sharp-edged grin. “Let’s go find this Garneau.”

* * *

**_8 May 2186, Interstellar Space_ **

One thing about Shepard: he did not need to be _happy_ to be a passionate lover. I considered that just as well. During the Reaper War, he rarely had much occasion to be happy.

In all the time I bonded with him, he rarely lacked a healthy interest in sex. When he did, it usually happened after some grave setback, or even after a clear victory that he believed to be too costly. For example, we didn’t make love at all for almost a month after the bitterly expensive victory at Bahak. Sorrow and remorse did not coexist gracefully in his mind with erotic passion. At such times I learned to simply be there for him, a friend and a sounding board, and that was enough.

Give Shepard a _plan,_ though – an objective, a clear path to pursue it, some hope for a clean victory at the end – and his _eros_ blazed into a fierce flame. Since it was at such times that the traits I most admired shone forth in him – his courage, determination, strength of will, sharp intelligence – then mine usually kindled in response.

The night we set out on quest for the Leviathan was one example. Goddess, I’m surprised the entire ship didn’t ring like a bell.

Afterward we lay in a tangle of arms and legs, both of us still breathing hard and drenched with sweat, too overcome to speak, our minds still almost fully merged.

Then I saw it again.

_Yes/Yes._

_Goddess. Do you see it? There._

I felt his mind “turn,” looking deep within, like the profound introspection that sometimes comes during meditative practice.

_What is it/What is it?_

An echo in his thoughts. Like the sound of a voice calling out in a deep cavern, and hearing _something_ respond from the far side.

_There! Don’t you see it?_

A growing sense of wonder, mixed with a dash of fear. _I do see it/I do see it. Strange/Strange._

_What could be causing this?_

I saw a sudden image, welling up from very deep in his subconscious. Shepard, and yet not Shepard, the beloved face half-replaced by tarnished steel, the powerful body full of foreign mechanism. His eyes burned a hostile red, his cheek seamed with scars, and the scars themselves _glowed_.

_It’s inside me/It’s inside me!_

Fear surged in his mind. He began to struggle.

My eyes flew open. His body trembled in my arms, and then began to thrash, his movements random and uncoordinated. A full-blown seizure.

He stared at me wildly, and then his eyes rolled back in his head. Suddenly he went utterly limp. I checked his airway, saw he was still breathing, but otherwise I found him completely unresponsive.

“Oh Goddess. Dr. Chakwas! _EDI, call Dr. Chakwas!”_


	25. No Hiding Place

**_8 May 2186, Interstellar Space_ **

Shepard remained unconscious for about an hour, long enough for Dr. Chakwas to move him to the medical bay and perform an extensive set of tests. Thus, by the time he awoke, she had at least the beginning of some answers for us.

“This is your brain, Commander.”

Shepard sat propped up in a medical bed, looking tired but alert. I sat on a raised stool beside him, leaning close and holding his hand as desperately as a lifeline. Both of us watched the holographic display Karin had set up above his bed, with careful attention.

“As you can see – well, as you _could_ see if you had training in human neurophysiology – your brain is entirely normal in appearance. I can find no evidence of significant malformation or injury.” She peered at us, with concern in her silver eyes. “Which is really quite impossible.”

Shepard frowned. “I don’t follow, Doctor.”

“Commander, I’ve seen reports of the condition of . . . Let’s not mince words. Your _corpse_. One of the Blue Suns who initially recovered it from Alchera carried out a non-invasive but very thorough examination. After Dr. T’Soni recovered it from the Shadow Broker’s men, she also made a more superficial examination.”

I remembered, and shuddered slightly in revulsion. Shepard glanced at me, concerned, but said nothing.

“There’s no way to sugar-coat this, Commander. _You were dead_. Your brain was relatively intact, compared to the rest of your body, but that is saying very little. Cerberus had to rebuild most of your body _and brain_ from scratch. That’s the only way they could both be here, now, in such robust health.”

“So what you’re saying is: I’m not the same William Shepard who went down over Alchera. Physically, at least.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Karin rested a hand on his forearm. “That man is dead. Physically, you are a new human being who resembles him very closely. Something like an identical twin.”

“But I _remember_ being him.” Shepard’s hand tightened on mine. “Liara thinks I’m the same. I _feel_ the same.”

“That’s entirely possible. Your personality, your self-image, your memory, all of those things appear to have made the transition intact. We’re talking about a question of identity, perhaps even a question of your _soul_. I’m not qualified to advise you on that. You need a philosopher, or a teacher in your religious tradition.”

“All right.” I could still feel tension in his hand, but his voice remained completely steady. “So what’s going wrong in my brain, which you say is in such good shape?”

“Actually, I’m not sure anything _is_ going wrong in your organic brain. It’s the additional machinery Cerberus put in place that concerns me.” The doctor touched her omni-tool, and shapes inside the three-dimensional image of Shepard’s brain became highlighted. “Your body is full of implants, Commander. Skin, muscle, and bone weaves. Nanotech filters in your liver and kidneys. More filters in your lungs. Pacemakers to push your heart and lungs well beyond the human norm. It’s no surprise to find mechanisms in your central nervous system as well.”

I pointed into the hologram. “There. A biotic amp, and it looks like asari make. I think I even recognize the model. Armali Council.”

“Wait a minute. Didn’t you tell me you inherited a stake in the Armali Council from your mother?” Shepard snorted in amusement. “I’ll bet you made a nice little bit of profit when Cerberus turned me into a biotic.”

“It’s a small galaxy,” I said defensively.

“You’re both right. It’s a biotic amp, definitely of asari origin, more advanced than anything I’ve seen before. No wonder your newfound talents are so effective, Commander.” Karin touched her omni-tool, and the image of the biotic amp faded out.

“I might recognize that piece,” said Shepard, pointing hesitantly at another shape. “If I remember my high-school anatomy, that’s the brain stem. I’ve heard of high-end gene mods needing an implant there to help regulate autonomic nerve impulses.”

“Good catch, Commander. This implant is also more advanced than most, but I believe that is exactly its function.” Karin made that shape fade away as well. “Now look here, and here. Implants in the eyes and along the optic nerve, more implants in the inner ear. Improved vision and image processing, improved hearing, improved balance.” More shapes faded away.

One shape remained, a small cylinder tucked in along the underside of Shepard’s brain.

“What is that?” I whispered.

“When you figure that out, please be sure to tell me.”

“You don’t have any ideas?” Shepard demanded.

“Its position is interesting,” said Karin judiciously. “Micro-scans reveal a whole network of filaments reaching into nearby regions of your brain: the amygdala, hippocampus, entorhinal and perirhinal cortices. All regions having to do with emotional responses, learning, and memory.”

Shepard turned pale. “I will be _damned_. Those Cerberus bastards put a control chip in my head.”

“No,” I murmured, and surprised myself in doing it.

“Liara?”

“That’s not what it is.” I followed the chain of logic once more, and it still seemed sound. “Shepard, last year you convinced a whole shipload of Cerberus personnel, including _Miranda Lawson_ , to break with the Illusive Man. You destroyed a Collector base that the Illusive Man very much wanted to seize intact, walked away with the multi-billion-credit investments represented by your body and this ship, and returned to the Alliance. If this implant is a control chip, it is the most _ineffective_ piece of Cerberus technology I’ve ever seen.”

Shepard stared at me, blinking, and then broke into a chuckle. “You have a point. Sorry. That’s been a concern of mine, ever since I woke up on Lazarus Station.”

“Quite understandable, Commander.” Karin expanded the display, zooming in on the image of the mysterious implant. “To be honest, I’m not certain a so-called ‘control chip’ is even possible in the sense you mean. I suspect this device is like most of the others Cerberus implanted in you during your _reconstruction_. Perhaps it’s designed to _support_ your natural functions in some way.”

“How?”

“I don’t know that yet, but I intend to find out.”

Shepard glanced at me, and I knew what he was thinking.

“The network has already been looking for Miranda,” I told him. “She has gone _deep_ underground, and for good reason. The Illusive Man has put an impressive price on her head.”

“Do what you can. I can’t function if I can’t trust my own mind.”

“There’s one more thing,” said Karin. “When we brought you in an hour ago, this implant was active. Since then it’s become dormant once again, and now I’m seeing no sign of activity at all.”

I immediately caught Shepard’s gaze, reached out to touch his face with my other hand, and closed my eyes. The border between our minds began to blur. I looked deep, and saw nothing out of the ordinary. No unusual imagery, no apparent echo in his thoughts. He seemed lucid and whole once more.

I broke the link, opened my eyes, and shook my head. “He’s fine. I don’t see any sign of it now.”

The doctor nodded, as if her suspicion had been confirmed. “All right. I recommend that the two of you be cautious for the next few days.”

Shepard snorted. “What she means is _no sex_ ,” he whispered to me as an aside.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” said Karin. “In fact, I would encourage Liara to stay close by and make at least a shallow link with you from time to time, to see whether this _echoing_ phenomenon recurs. We may have a good idea that this implant is implicated, but we still don’t know what’s triggering it, or what caused it to react so violently this time.”

“I understand,” I told her. “If I see the phenomenon again . . .”

“We come down here for another round of tests,” said Shepard. “So long as it doesn’t interfere with mission, doctor, I think we can do that.”

“Unless our joining is what’s causing these attacks,” I pointed out.

Karin looked skeptical. “I don’t think you need to worry about that. You and the Commander have been intimate frequently since your marriage last year, but you’ve only noticed this phenomenon in the past few days. It seems reasonable to guess that some other cause has recently appeared. Just be careful.”

“Hmm.” Shepard swung his legs over the side of the bed and prepared to get down. “No promises, Doctor. You may have noticed there’s a war on. Am I cleared for duty?”

“I see no medical reason to refuse. Good night, Commander.”

We returned to his cabin, where I sent a message out through the Shadow Broker’s network.

_Alpha priority: find Miranda Lawson. She is to contact Operative T’Soni, as soon as possible and without regard to risk. All measures short of lethal force are authorized._

* * *

**_10 May 2186, T-GES Mineral Works Facility/Mahavid_ **

We first attempted to find Dr. Alexandre Garneau on the inhabited moon Arvuna. In the end, we didn’t even have to land. Shepard contacted the colonial government, learning that Garneau had been there only days before. Apparently the scientist had immediately taken a shuttle out to the nearby Nahata asteroid belt.

“What’s this place we’re heading for?” asked Shepard, once our own shuttle departed _Normandy_.

“T-GES Mineral Works,” said Cortez, never taking his eyes from his control panels. “They supply tungsten to the Arvuna colony, with some shipping out into the wider galaxy.”

“This seems an unlikely place for this _Leviathan_ to hide,” said Javik. “Why would Garneau believe he could find traces here?”

“Hard to say.” Shepard cocked his head at the Prothean in curiosity. “Did your people know anything about this thing we’re searching for?”

“No.” Javik’s eyes narrowed as he thought. “We knew little about the galaxy’s deep history, a billion years or more into the past. We found traces of many prior civilizations, all gone. A few scraps of legend. It was enough to deduce the existence of the extinction cycle, but little else.”

“Picking up Reaper signatures from elsewhere in the asteroid field,” Cortez reported. “No large platforms, just small detachments. Maybe scouting parties.”

Shepard nodded. “Bryson said they were shadowing his field teams. If they’re looking for Leviathan too, then Reaper signatures might be a _good_ sign.”

“Well, there’s something you don’t hear every day,” murmured Cortez.

“There’s the facility.” Shepard pointed to the looming mass of Mahavid ahead of us. I could see lights glimmering from the asteroid’s dark face. “Take us in, then stand by while we go in and get Garneau.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Shepard turned to me. “Before we get there, Liara, time for a check.”

I nodded, reached out to lay a hand along his cheek, let my mind fall into an increasingly familiar meditative state. It only took a few moments for me to verify his mental condition. “No sign of an echo, love. You’re clean.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

We disembarked: Shepard, Javik, and me. Almost at once we heard the sound of Reaper forces, trying to force their way into the T-GES facility.

“Scouting party,” said Shepard quietly.

“That sounds larger than the term _scouting party_ would suggest,” I muttered.

Two marauders and a brute turned toward us as we rode a lift down to the main floor. One of Javik’s grenades and my singularity disposed of the marauders. The brute took a few moments of combined weapons fire, followed by Shepard’s flash-charge and a nova-blast. We had a moment of panic when a _second_ brute pelted down a flight of stairs at us, but after we executed a fighting retreat for a few moments, that one too succumbed to a bone-breaking vanguard’s charge.

“There’s the front door,” said Shepard.

“I wonder what we will find here,” said Javik. “The miners are doubtless barricaded inside, awaiting their doom.”

I hacked the lock. We passed through a short airlock corridor, opened a second door . . .

“ _Welcome to T-GES Mineral Works. All guests must sign in at Reception.”_

The reception office held perhaps eight or nine mining engineers and technicians, all of them human, and no sign of panic at all. We stopped just inside the second door, spotting an engineer walking calmly with a cup of coffee, two more conferring quietly over a datapad, a cluster of three close at hand and conversing in low tones.

The conversation stopped the moment the miners saw us. Two male engineers _stared_ at us, unblinking, their gaze calmly assessing our presence. The third human, a female, slowly turned to stare at us as well.

Shepard waved for their attention. “Excuse me . . .”

“You shouldn’t be here,” said the woman, her voice completely without inflection. The stares continued.

Shepard frowned.

“No reaction to a heavily armed party,” muttered Javik. “No reaction to the presence of an asari, or of a Prothean whom none of these have seen before.”

“No reaction to the presence of Reapers outside their front door,” I agreed.

“Come on,” said Shepard.

We found our way to an administrative desk. The two male humans behind it ignored us.

“I’m Commander Shepard, with the Alliance.”

Two pairs of eyes rose to stare at him. No other reaction.

“Were you aware that there were Reaper forces attacking your front door?”

“Are they still there?” one of them asked, in that same flat voice.

“No, we’ve taken care of them for now. I’m sure they’ll be back, though.”

“I see. That will be all.” Both men turned back to their work.

Shepard waited for a moment, his frown growing deeper.

I noticed a call button on the wall nearby: _Assistance_. On a hunch, I stepped forward and pressed it. A low musical tone sounded.

“Yes. Welcome to T-GES Mineral Works. How can we help you?”

“Yes. For the tour, please sign in.”

“You don’t seem too worried about the Reapers,” said Shepard. “Do you know something I don’t?”

“T-GES Mineral Works is a small to mid-level supplier of tungsten to the galaxy.”

Shepard shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Are you familiar with the applications of tungsten?”

“I’m looking for a researcher named Dr. Alexandre Garneau,” said Shepard, starting to lose his patience. “He would have arrived within the last couple of weeks. If he’s here, I need to speak with him.”

“We have no Dr. Garneau.”

“Do you need to see a doctor?”

“No. I’m fine.” Shepard leaned on the counter. “How about if I just go in and look around a bit?”

“No.” The first man’s eyes slid to the side. “The access elevator is broken.”

I followed his glance, seeing lift doors a few meters away. The control panel shone red, indicating that the doors were indeed broken. I could also see an engineer stepping away from the doors, still holding the tool with which he had apparently broken them.

“And now we’re done,” said the man, _still_ with no intonation in his voice. “Step away.”

“Step away,” agreed the second man. “You don’t belong here.”

“Commander, something is very wrong here,” murmured Javik.

“Yeah, I’m getting that feeling.” Shepard turned away from the reception desk. “Come on. Let’s look around, see if we can get into the rest of the facility. Carefully.”

This turned out to present little challenge. So long as we didn’t interfere with any of the miners, they tended to go about their own business. They often stopped to stare at us as we passed, issuing cryptic warnings. Sometimes they closed doors or shut down computer consoles to conceal their work. They did nothing to prevent us from moving around. We had no trouble repairing the access elevator, or exploring the main level of the facility once it functioned again.

“What kind of work are they doing here?” I wondered after a time.

“They are carrying out mining operations,” said Javik, “but they also pursue all manner of research that has nothing to do with resource extraction.”

“Biology, genetics, population dynamics.” Shepard shook his head, confused. “They’re talking about a lot of weaponized applications, too.”

“This is an isolated facility,” Javik observed. “Could these engineers be doing unauthorized work on behalf of some third party? For political or ideological reasons, or for pay?”

“Their manner is not at all normal. I would almost suspect indoctrination, but . . .” I trailed off, not sure how to put what I felt into words.

“This doesn’t feel like indoctrination,” said Shepard. “They’re intelligent enough. There’s no sign they’re getting burnt out or reduced to mindlessness, like the scientists we saw on Virmire. They’re just flat.”

Eventually we found an unguarded security console, and managed to gain partial access. I hacked my way through the system, finding evidence of what had happened to Dr. Garneau. He had arrived a little over a week before, interacted peacefully with the miners. Then, quite suddenly, he had become involved in some kind of “altercation” in the mines, sustaining serious injuries. The security system claimed he was currently undergoing treatment in the facility’s medical bay.

We made our way back through the corridors, reaching the medical bay. The miners had secured that door well, but eventually we found a security code that permitted access. Inside, the medical bay stood quiet and apparently abandoned, only a single turian orderly sitting in an office close to the door. We moved down the hall, looking into treatment rooms on either side.

“Here,” said Javik, peering through a window into a darkened room. All of us could see a human-shaped figure lying on a medical bed, the sheets pulled up to cover his face. “Is this the human we are looking for?”

“I hope not,” I said, “or we’ve hit a dead end.”

Shepard glanced around, and picked up a datapad sitting on a nearby gurney.

“This belonged to Garneau,” he said. “Looks like a whole string of messages that didn’t get sent back to Dr. Bryson.” He tapped at the pad . . .

_“Bryson, this is Garneau. I’ve had to go into hiding, and I need you to come get me. I found another one of those artifacts here. They’re more important than we realized. It’s in the mines. That’s where I’ll be. Something is very wrong here. Please hurry.”_

“An artifact?” I wondered. “Like the crystal sphere we saw back in Garret’s lab? Dr. Garneau recovered that one as well.”

 _Thump_. A sound, from another darkened treatment room behind us. We turned to see a shadowed figure, standing just behind another window. A male human, leaning heavily on a railing, looking exhausted.

 _“If you are looking for Garneau, you have found him,”_ he said through an intercom. _“I am Dr. Garneau.”_

Shepard strode across the corridor to face the man. “I’m Commander Shepard, with the Alliance. My associates are Dr. T’Soni and Javik. Are you all right?”

_“Yes. Only I’m trapped in here.”_

“What’s been going on here?”

_“I was doing my research. Until the incident.”_

“The miners attacked you,” Shepard guessed.

_“It’s true. But now, aside from my confinement, I’m fine.”_

My eyes narrowed as I watched and listened to Garneau.

_He doesn’t sound quite like the others. There’s almost no inflection in his voice either, but it sounds like the effects of fatigue or injury._

“Dr. Bryson’s research led us to you,” Shepard continued.

Silence for a moment. Garneau raised his face, not quite high enough to look directly at us. _“Bryson sent you?”_

“I’m sorry, Doctor. He’s dead. Killed by his assistant.”

_“I see.”_

_No emotional reaction to the news_.

“Doctor, I need you to tell me everything you’ve found about the Leviathan. Bryson seemed to think it killed a Reaper.”

Garneau stepped back, leaned against the medical bed from which he had arisen. He shook his head wearily. _“It’s a myth. A dead end.”_

 _He is lying,_ I was suddenly very sure. I touched Shepard for just a moment, caught his eye silently, and stepped forward with a question of my own. “In your call to Dr. Bryson, you mentioned an artifact.”

 _“I did?”_ Silence. _“No.”_

Shepard frowned, seeing it as well now. “Yes, Doctor, you did. But now we have Reaper forces attacking this facility, so it’s time I got you out of there. We’ll grab the artifact and go.”

 _“Reapers,”_ said Garneau, some emotion coloring his voice for the first time. _“The darkness must not be breached.”_

Shepard stepped up to the window, set a hand on it to peer closely at the man. “The darkness?”

Garneau _leaped_ forward, his fists thumping on the glass. His voice fell a good two octaves, a sudden contra-bass rumble with deep resonance. “ **Why do you pursue me?** ”

“Doctor?”

“ **Leave the artifact. You will not take what is mine!** ”

“He is not himself,” observed Javik. “This is _not_ Garneau we are talking to.”

_Goddess. Is it Leviathan, speaking through Garneau’s mind?_

“You,” said Shepard, apparently reaching the same wild surmise. _“You_ killed a Reaper. I need your help!”

“ **You bring only death.** ”

Force erupted from the human, like a biotic explosion but unaccompanied by any light or electrical discharge. The basso-profundo noise was terrifyingly loud, forcing all of us to clap our hands to our auditory organs. Glass shattered and flew out at us, and we recoiled to protect our faces from the flying shards.

I heard the _thud_ of boots on the floor. I glanced up and saw Garneau out in the corridor with us, turning to flee.

“ **Leave this place!** ” he shouted as he ran.

Shepard recovered first, breaking into a sprint to follow him, down a corridor toward a transit station that led to the mines. Javik and I followed, seconds behind him.

Darkness. Something cut the power to our section, forcing doors closed between us and our quarry.

“Come on,” Shepard shouted desperately. “He’s getting away!”

It took us a few moments to find an access ladder, leading around the blocked corridor sections and up to the roof of the facility. When we emerged, we could see a human figure in the distance, hurrying away from us. Garneau, heading for the mines.

We also saw a great flying creature, a Reaper support platform called a _harvester_ , heading in the same direction. It dropped off a flying wedge of husks to pursue the fleeing human on foot.

“Looks like we’re not the only ones heading that way,” said Shepard as he ran.

“Perhaps. We are the only ones who will come out alive,” said Javik.

For once, the husks paid no attention to us. I had only an instant to think about that, and then we sprinted forward, Shepard leading a charge to shatter the husks before they could reach their target.

We moved across the roof, trying madly to catch up with Garneau. A series of red fireballs erupted through the kinetic barrier above, slamming down among the intricacies of the roof ahead of us. Marauders, two swollen rachni ravagers, and . . .

For the first time, I heard it.

A high-pitched, wailing screech. Worse, far worse, than the great horn-blast of a Reaper in battle. A hellish noise to bypass my sense of hearing, speak to ancient terrors, turn my guts to sludge and my bones to water.

_Oh Goddess, what is that?_

“Asari! Do not falter!”

Two of them: tall, brimming with biotic power, seeming almost to float as they moved slowly along. Female in shape, but horribly distorted, gross bloated stomachs and sagging breasts and the faces of ancient decayed hags. Eyes glowing with malice. Mouths opening to emit still more of those horrible screams. Asari crests crowning their misshapen heads.

 _Asari._ Taken by the Reapers. Twisted into mockeries of my people’s natural beauty and grace. Transformed into living weapons.

I screamed, but even in the midst of horror I could see my little Shuriken would be no use at all. I put it away, brandished my fists instead, began to hurl warp after biotic warp. Shepard and Javik followed my lead. We fought to tear down biotic barriers as strong as granite.

Somehow we survived the battle that followed, dealt with those two abominations and all the lesser creatures that followed them. One of the twisted asari almost made it to our position, got close enough to reach out for me with taloned hands, but then Shepard flash-charged in from the side and broke the thing. One final scream seared my nerves as the coiled energies in its flesh consumed its corpse.

“Oh Goddess.” I turned to one side and was violently sick.

“Liara. Come on, we’ve got to get moving.” Shepard’s hands supported me, lifted me back to my feet, even though I could feel them trembling as well.

Only Javik remained apparently unmoved. “You must steel yourself against such things, asari. You will see far worse if you are determined to fight Reapers.”

“I know.” I stared wildly into my bondmate’s eyes. “Shepard, I want you to promise me something.”

“Anything, love.”

“If the Reapers ever capture me, if they ever look like they’re about to overrun us, I want you to put a bullet in my brain. Before they turn me into anything like _that.”_

Grimly, Shepard nodded in complete agreement.

With the asari-things down, the remaining Reaper troops put up little resistance. A few more minutes brought us to the entrance to the active mines. We forced the door and hurried downward, hearing the groaning noise of more husks ahead of us.

“Garneau!” Shepard shouted. “Where are you?”

We found an open space, what must once have been an active mine face. Now it resembled a broad amphitheater, the floor sloping down into the center from all sides. In the center I saw a massive stone outcropping, with a great crystal sphere embedded close to its tip.

“ **The darkness cannot be breached.** ”

The sphere resembled the one in Garret’s lab, but this one glowed and shimmered, so bright that it lit up the entire vast space. I could almost feel its emanations, like a deep hum, bypassing my auditory organs to reach directly into my brain.

Garneau had climbed up on the rock outcropping, backing up frantically toward the artifact. A dozen husks clambered across the floor and up the lowest slopes of the outcropping, cornering Garneau, moments from tearing him to shreds.

Shepard shouted and leaped to the attack, Javik and me right behind him. Husks began to go down under our gunfire.

One husk leaped upward, menacing Garneau, so close that Shepard couldn’t get a clear shot.

“ _Move!”_

Garneau glanced in our direction.

“ **Turn back!** ” he shouted, in the deep bass voice I had begun to attribute to Leviathan’s influence. Then he opened one hand to reveal a detonator. His thumb came down on the trigger.

An explosion tore through the space, the shock knocking all three of us off our feet, deafening us.

By the time the echoes fell silent and we rose to our feet once more, the entire top of the outcropping was simply _gone_. So were the husks, Garneau, and the artifact.

“Damn it,” muttered Shepard, moving down toward the outcropping to see if anything remained.

Javik saw something else, slinging his weapon on his back and rushing across the floor. I saw him kneel, bending over a human body. I followed him.

“Who is that?” I asked, watching as the Prothean rolled the body onto its back. A male human, clearly several days dead, a datapad still clutched in one hand.

 _“Rrrh,”_ said Javik, picking up the datapad and quickly scanning its stored files. “Commander, come quickly. You will want to see this.”

“What’ve you got?”

“That human was not the one called Garneau – this one is. And he’s been dead for some time.”

Shepard frowned. “The one we talked to, he was _pretending_ to be Garneau?”

“It makes sense,” I said, kneeling to examine the dead man. “If this is Garneau, he must have come here looking for Leviathan. He found the artifact in this mine. The miners reacted violently. Killed him. They must have known someone would come looking for him, so one of them took his place to misdirect us.”

“Hmm.” Shepard looked around, folding his arms and shaking his head in disgust. “Let’s review the bidding. Leviathan can take control of Hadley on the Citadel, and have him kill Bryson. It can also take control of this whole colony, and have the miners do all kinds of odd research. And when an outsider turns up, it has them kill him too.”

“Like indoctrination,” I said, standing up again. “But not quite the same.”

“No.” Shepard suddenly frowned, as if a thought had struck him. “Liara. Check me. _Now.”_

I hesitated, but then reached out to take his hand. Entering the mental state for a light joining seemed more difficult under such stressful circumstances, but after a few moments I managed it. Our minds slipped close together . . .

 _There_.

Deep in Shepard’s mind, an _echo_. Something else doubling his thoughts. The mysterious implant, buried deep in his brain?

I remembered the violent reaction he had exhibited two nights before, and pulled away at once. Fortunately he showed no signs of harm this time. “It’s there. How did you know?”

“Call it a hunch. The first time you noticed it, we had been at close quarters with a Reaper a few hours before. The second time we had been in Bryson’s lab, where his assistant fell under Leviathan’s control.”

“You think it’s a reaction, to whatever force causes indoctrination?”

“I’d say that’s a good working hypothesis, wouldn’t you?”

I thought hard for a moment, and then nodded in agreement.

“Javik, anything else on that pad?”

“Encrypted data. Also eight missed calls from someone named Dr. Ann Bryson.”

“That would be Garret’s daughter,” I told them. “I’ve never met her, but Garret mentioned her several times while we were on Thessia together. She’s an archaeologist as well.”

“I saw her name on some of Dr. Bryson’s records back on the Citadel,” said Shepard. “I think she’s on Task Force Aurora as one of the field researchers.”

Behind us, the door opened.

Shepard and I both turned, our weapons at the ready.

Three of the miners entered the chamber, two humans and an asari, unarmed and looking rather confused. “Who . . . who are you? What are you doing here?” asked one, a human female I had last seen in the mineral labs.

“I’m Commander Shepard, with the Alliance Navy. Are you all right?”

“I . . . I think so. I feel strange . . . but all right.”

Shepard pointed to Garneau’s body. “Do you recognize this man?”

The asari shook her head in confusion. “I’ve never seen him before in my life. What’s he doing here?”

“Someone here killed him.”

“Someone . . . here?” The asari brought a hand up to rub at her forehead. “How is that possible?”

“There was an artifact here. A sphere, made of some kind of crystal. Do you know where it came from?”

The other human, a male, looked over at what remained of the rock outcropping. “Yeah. It came out of the mine. Head office was supposed to send someone, but . . .”

“Something happened,” said the woman. “I remember being someplace else. Someplace cold and dark.”

“Yes,” the asari agreed. “If _dark_ was a feeling, that’s exactly what I felt too.”

“Cortez,” Shepard called. “Garneau is a no-go, but we have some new data. I think we’re ready for pickup. What’s your situation?”

_“All green, Commander. Strangest thing. Just a few minutes ago, the Reaper forces packed up and left. I shouldn’t have any problem coming in to pick you up.”_

“Reaper?” asked the male human. “What’s a _Reaper?”_

Shepard caught my eye. I shrugged helplessly.

_Sorry, my love, I’m out of ideas too._

“What _year_ do you think this is?” Shepard asked gently.

“What year?” The female human stopped to think. “It’s 2176.”

“That was ten years ago.”

“What? How is that possible?” All three of the miners exchanged shocked glances.

Shepard turned to me. “Let’s arrange for these people to be picked up and taken to temporary quarantine.”

“Ten years,” I said in wonder. “They’re going to have a lot of catching up to do.”

“This is not like indoctrination at all,” said Javik. “No creature could live under Reaper indoctrination for ten years, and emerge with its mind intact.”

“Leviathan must have something else,” Shepard agreed. “Similar, and in some ways more effective. I’m betting it works through those artifacts we’ve been seeing.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “They must be very powerful, and very dangerous.”

“And one of them is sitting right on the Citadel, in the middle of the Presidium, with no safeguards on it at all.” Shepard’s face looked like a carving out of stone. “We had better hurry home.”


	26. Daughters of Wisdom

**_12 May 2186, Spectre Corps Headquarters/Citadel_ **

“ _Human. Shepard. Spectre status recognized.”_

“Hello, Commander.” The turian behind the security desk checked his instruments and nodded in satisfaction. “You check out okay. Your guests will need to sign in.”

I had visited the Spectre headquarters before, delivering intelligence or scientific briefings to Shepard and his colleagues, so I found the place familiar. Dr. Chakwas, on the other hand, looked around with keen interest.

“We’ll need a secure conference room and a QEC channel,” said Shepard.

“Not a problem,” the turian replied. “Room Gamma is open. I’ll set up the channel there.”

We found our way to the conference room, activated the security systems, and sat down. The call went through almost at once. Light sprang up on the far side of the table, an image flickering into existence: Miranda Lawson, wearing civilian clothes and an unhappy expression.

“ _Shepard. Glad to see you’re all right. Could you have the Shadow Broker call off her dogs? They’re likely to get me killed if they’re not careful.”_

I leaned forward. “I apologize, Miranda, but the matter is urgent and we couldn’t afford to take too long to find you.”

Miranda frowned, glancing at Dr. Chakwas. _“Shepard, is something wrong?”_

“Apparently so,” said Shepard. He operated the teleconference controls and brought up imagery of his deep brain structure. “Miranda, what do you know about this implant?”

The former Cerberus operative took only an instant to come up to speed. _“It’s a memory regulator, Shepard.”_

Karin nodded. “We deduced that it had _some_ function related to the Commander’s memory and personality. Was it used to prime his brain to retain his pre-death memories?”

“ _Exactly. Shepard, we had to do a great deal of reconstruction of your brain tissue. We had a fairly complete record of your memories, thanks to Liara’s assistance, but loading those memories back into your rebuilt brain posed a serious problem.”_

“Sorry, brain surgery isn’t one of my skills,” said Shepard. “Can you explain the problem, preferably using small words?”

“ _The issue is that brains aren’t digital devices. They’re analog, and they’re also terribly complex. Memories are stored holistically, in the patterns of interconnected neurons, even in the electrochemical states of the neurons themselves. Take a single memory – say, the time you first kissed Irene Stanton when you were fourteen years old . . .”_

Shepard frowned. I had to hide a smile.

“ _That memory is stored in an associational network involving many hundreds of neurons. If it’s a particularly vivid memory, it may be stored in several different places, with different associations for each. So years later you see a woman with the same color eyes, or you catch an odor that reminds you of the scent of her hair, or you meet someone with the same first name, and the neurons fire. You remember.”_

“So when the neurons die, their networks get disrupted and the memories get lost.”

“ _Yes. It’s possible to scan living brain tissue and recover memory traces, which we can then store digitally. Reading those traces back into another brain, so that it can remember what the first brain remembered, that’s almost impossible. How do you force the living neurons to take up new configurations?”_

“Asari do it all the time,” he objected.

“ _Not even asari science can explain how that happens,”_ said Miranda, rather tartly. _“It’s not something we could duplicate, and we couldn’t very well ask Liara to take up residence on Lazarus Station for months on end.”_

“I would have come,” I murmured, but Miranda ignored me.

“ _In any case, we found a solution. Use the brain’s own interface system. Memories get imprinted on the brain by way of several specific structures: the amygdala, the hippocampus, and so on.”_

“Right where you put this implant,” Shepard observed.

“ _Correct. The implant contains a copy of all the memory traces we recovered from your unreconstructed brain, and from Liara’s donation. While we regenerated your brain, the implant replayed your memories by stimulating the appropriate neural centers. Your new cerebral cortex assimilated the memory traces and imprinted them in long-term storage by the usual biological means, all while you remained in a coma for several months.”_

“So this implant isn’t actually me. More like a backup.”

“ _It’s not even that, Shepard. Once you became conscious, it should have shut down. The only reason it’s still there is because it’s safer to leave it in place than to try to remove it surgically from your living brain.”_

“That’s not right,” Karin objected. “It’s been active on several occasions in the past two weeks. On one occasion, we believe it triggered a seizure.”

Miranda frowned. “ _That shouldn’t be possible.”_

Shepard leaned forward, giving her a sharp glare. “Clearly it _is_ possible, Miranda, so we should start thinking about why, and how to fix it.”

“Here’s another data point for you,” I stepped in. “What brought this to our attention was something I observed while Shepard and I were joined. I sensed an echoing effect, as if two of Shepard existed in the link.”

“ _Well, that’s clear enough.”_ Miranda’s expression softened somewhat, as she felt herself on familiar ground. _“During asari-human bonding, the asari metacortex comes into synchrony with the human limbic system. Not only would you see the human partner’s existing long-term memories, you would also be aware of new memories currently being laid down by the same neural structures that are tied to the implant. If the implant is active at the time, you would perceive that as a doubling. Memories being recorded in two channels at once, as it were.”_

“That still doesn’t explain why the implant is coming active in the first place,” Shepard complained.

“We think the activity may be correlated with exposure to indoctrination,” said Karin.

“ _Indoc . . .”_ Miranda’s eyes opened wide with surprise.

The three of us waited, watching our friend’s image.

“ _That has to be it,”_ she said finally. _“Shepard, one feature of the implant is a feedback loop. While you were still in a coma, it constantly queried your organic brain to ensure the core memories it played out had been properly stored. If it found a large enough discrepancy, it would replay the memories again until they were clear. Think of it not as copying memories into your brain, but as training your new brain to carry the right memories.”_

“That feedback never got turned off?”

“ _Not explicitly. We simply assumed it would become inactive once your memories, the experiences that formed your personality, were all in place.”_

I saw it then. “What happens if some external force tries to _alter_ his core memories? Tries to change his personality?”

“ _Then it’s possible the implant would detect that and try to counteract it.”_

“Is that how indoctrination works?” asked Shepard.

“It’s certainly part of the effect,” said Karin. “The most obvious symptoms – hallucinations, the experience of hearing voices, and so on – those come later, or under very intense exposure. The case studies I’ve seen suggest that the Reapers first establish control by manipulating the victim’s underlying personality. That suggests the alteration of memories. Miranda, what data rate did you observe from the implant while the Commander was under your care?”

Karin and Miranda fell into a highly technical discussion, leaving me behind within moments. I exchanged a rueful glance with Shepard, who was even more clearly at sea.

After a time, he grew impatient and cut off debate. “Miranda, does this suggest I’m somehow _immune_ to indoctrination?”

“ _No, Shepard. The implant can only read data back into your organic brain so fast. If you’re exposed to the indoctrination effect at very high intensity, or for a long period, then it can certainly affect you. I_ think _what this means is that the implant will give you some ability to_ recover _from indoctrination, especially if your exposure to the effect is minimized.”_ Miranda sighed deeply. _“I wish I could tell you more. Unfortunately that would require in-depth research, and I just don’t have the time or the resources right now.”_

“That’s all right, Miranda,” said Karin. “You’ve given me plenty to go on.”

“ _All right. I’ll stay in touch as best I can. If there’s anything more I can tell you, I will.”_

Shepard leaned forward. “Miranda, are _you_ all right?”

“ _More or less. I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you in person. The Citadel is too dangerous right now. I heard about the attempted coup.”_

“Yeah. Udina nearly took control, with Kai Leng’s help.”

“ _Kai Leng? That slippery bastard’s still alive?”_

“Alive, and right in the middle of all this.”

“ _That complicates things. I’ll be on my guard.”_ Miranda hesitated, and then pushed onward. _“I don’t have much time, but you need to know. I learned what happened to my sister. My father found her. Took her back from her adopted family.”_

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Her voice went glacially cold. _“If he’s done anything to her, I’ll kill him.”_

“Miranda . . .”

“ _That’s my problem to deal with, Shepard. There’s more. I heard a rumor, maybe more, that my father is working on something for the Illusive Man. Something big.”_

Shepard frowned. “You know, we’ve been wondering where Cerberus has gotten such a big army so quickly.”

“ _I see what you’re getting at. I don’t know if this is related. My father may have nothing to do with it.”_

“Well, whatever he’s up to, it can’t be good. We have to figure this out.”

“ _I agree . . .”_

“Miranda. Come join us on the _Normandy_. We can protect you, help you work through this.”

Miranda shook her head in reluctant refusal. _“I’m sorry, Shepard. You’ve got your mission, and I don’t think mine would fit. I’m afraid this is something I’ll have to do myself. It’s time I stopped running from him anyway.”_

“You sure?”

“ _Yes. I can’t think straight until I know Ori is safe, anyway. After that, we’ll see.”_

“All right. Anything you need, contact me. I think the same goes for the Shadow Broker.”

I nodded in wordless support.

“ _Thanks. That means a lot.”_

“Be careful, Miranda.”

“ _I can’t promise that, Shepard. Could you?”_

Then she turned away, and her image vanished.

* * *

**_12 May 2186, Task Force Aurora Facility/Citadel_ **

Evening had come before we could get away from the Spectres and return to Garret’s workplace. This time EDI joined us. We unloaded several cases of equipment from the back of the aircar, gathered from _Normandy_ and the Spectre offices.

Once we finished, Shepard led us directly over to the storage case where the crystal sphere waited.

“Look,” I said quietly. “It’s active.”

The sphere shone with iridescent colors, far brighter than I had seen it on our previous visit. I held a hand up to it and felt a vibration, like a low hum too deep to be heard.

“We need to shield it right away,” said Shepard. “I may have a backup brain, but you don’t.”

“Based on Dr. Garneau’s data, and using the equipment we brought from _Normandy_ , I should be able to set up a shield to block the artifact’s emissions,” said EDI. “I would advise the two of you to move away from the artifact until I have finished the task.”

“We can go look for clues as to Ann Bryson’s location,” said Shepard. “Come on, Liara.”

We searched for some time with little result, until I noticed that new messages had come in to Garret’s mail account while we searched for Garneau. “Here, Shepard. Ann must have tried to contact her father in the past few days. If she’s isolated out in the field, she might not have heard what has happened.”

“Can you play the message?”

“Just a moment . . .”

A holographic image appeared: a human female, short and sturdy of build, wearing a conservative haircut and unfashionable clothes. Her dark eyes gleamed with intelligence.

“ _Dad. I’m at the dig site in the Pylos Nebula. Project Scarab paid off. I’ve got another artifact like the one Alex found. I think it could be affecting people’s behavior. You need to shield the one in your office, like the Reaper fragment. I tried to warn Alex, but I can’t get through.”_ She paused for a moment, looking rather frightened. _“We’ve had sightings of Reaper scouts here. I think they’re going to find the main site before much longer. I’m heading to our secondary base to grab what research data I can. Talk to you as soon as I get back. Be careful.”_

I shook my head. “Such a tragedy. She couldn’t get through to Garneau, she called here too late for her father, and now the Reapers are pursuing her.”

“We had better figure out where she is, and get to her before they do. The Pylos Nebula?”

“I don’t know that cluster. I wish she had said _what planet.”_

“Maybe we can figure that out. I think I saw a list of ship charters over here . . .”

He was right. We soon found that the younger Dr. Bryson had chartered the MSV _Icarus_ for her journey out to the Pylos Nebula. Shepard smiled in triumph as he scanned the ship’s specifications.

“I don’t see how this helps us,” I complained.

“That’s because naval architecture isn’t in your skill set, T’Soni,” he teased me. “Look here: enhanced electrostatic discharge cells. That’s unusual for a civilian merchant vessel, unless it’s rigged for deep-space exploration. Ships like this are designed to venture a long way into the wilderness, away from the mass relay network.”

“Interesting. So we can eliminate the relay system for the cluster, and probably any other systems too close to there.” I crossed over to the galaxy map and worked with the controls. “Garret marked several systems in the Pylos Nebula as being of interest. Eliminating those within . . . how far would you say?”

“Let’s say twenty light-years. Anything closer to the mass relay than that, and you wouldn’t need the improved discharge cells.”

“Done.”

We both looked up at the map. Two star systems remained marked. Unfortunately, they were widely separated. If we guessed wrong, we might reach Dr. Bryson days too late.

“I have an idea,” I said after a moment. “Let’s look at the task force’s requisitions locker. What kind of equipment did Dr. Bryson take with her?”

“That’s a good notion.”

I gave him a sharp-edged smile. “Naval architecture may not be in my skill set, Shepard, but planning for an archaeological expedition most certainly _is.”_

He held up his hands in mock surrender, and went in search of the requisitions locker.

“Ann didn’t indent for any environmental suits or breather masks,” he called after a few minutes. “She must have counted on being able to breathe the air.”

I checked the galaxy map. “Canalus has an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere, but the air is full of volcanic ash and radioactive dust. You would need breathing gear to work out in the open there.”

“What about the other possibility?”

“Namakli, in the Zaherin system. Oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere, no significant toxic elements.”

“What else can you tell me about it?”

“It’s a desert planet,” I reported. “Almost no surface water.”

“Hmm. She _did_ sign out a lot of water-recycling gear.” He flashed a triumphant smile at me from across the lab. “Logic wins again.”

“We could still be wrong,” I pointed out.

“Sure. It’s still the best guess we have, and I’m going to run with it. EDI?”

“I am almost finished,” said the AI, pointing to a control panel off to one side. “That large button will activate the field.”

Shepard strode over and punched the button with his fist. It shone green, and EDI’s equipment came to life with a gentle hum. A cylindrical shield sprang into being around the artifact, glowing blue-white. At once, the artifact went dark and ceased to give off vibrations.

“Well, that worked,” said Shepard with satisfaction. “Can it still be indoctrinating anyone?”

“That is difficult to determine,” said EDI. “We do not know how it was doing that in the first place.”

“We do have _one_ way to detect whether an indoctrination effect is present,” I said. “Unfortunately we probably don’t have the time to test it right now.”

“No. Let’s go get Ann Bryson.”

* * *

**_13 May 2186, Interstellar Space_ **

I heard the cabin door open, and looked up from my datapad to see Shepard enter, with Samantha Traynor in tow.

“Your cabin is _gorgeous,”_ she said, looking around. “I’ve seen apartments that were smaller than this.”

“Good evening, Samantha,” I greeted her, without rising from my place.

“Doctor,” she returned, smiling at me with a gleam in her eye. “Don’t you _ever_ put down your work?”

I sighed and dropped the datapad on the bed beside me. “I might, if there was less of it. What brings you here?”

“The Commander was brave enough to deliver something that closely resembled a _challenge.”_ She turned her smile on Shepard, possibly dialing up the output just a little. “Well, Commander? Ready to play?”

“I get the feeling I’m in for a learning experience,” said Shepard ruefully.

“Play?” I inquired.

“I picked up a chessboard on the Citadel. GUI interface. Not nearly as nice as real pieces, but this takes up less space.”

“ _Chess_ is a game?” I inquired.

“Really, Doctor, you’ve spent this much time around humans, and you don’t know chess? This is _the_ game. No other quite compares.”

“I’m afraid when it comes to human games, I’m fonder of poker.” I smiled at Shepard. “Really, love, you offered Samantha a challenge and then permitted her to choose the weapons? I thought your tactical sense was sounder than that.”

“The burdens of command,” he said. “Sure, Traynor, let’s give this a try.”

They sat at the small table, Samantha setting up her board and holographic pieces, and then began to play. At first it seemed even less exciting than watching other people play poker. Clearly Shepard knew the rules before he began, although after a time I noticed that his pieces departed the board somewhat more frequently than Samantha’s.

I picked up my datapad again, connected to the ship’s library, and downloaded a copy of the rules.

_Hmm. This looks like a game that’s very easy to learn to play, very difficult to learn to play well._

“Hah!” Samantha crowed, yanking my attention back to the game.

“Oh, _come on!”_

I counted white and black pieces, and made an evaluation of the board position based on what I had just read. _Oh dear . . ._

The woman leaned back on the couch, looking quite insufferably smug. “My word, Commander. It’s almost as though you wanted to spare your pawns the indignity of living under my regime.”

“In a real battle, that tactic would have worked.”

“Well, in a _real battle,_ one doesn’t move on an eight-by-eight square grid.”

Shepard chuckled ruefully. “You know what I mean. The pawns are infantry. A good infantry line, like the krogan, can take a charge like that.”

“That reminds me of a joke.” She gave Shepard a wicked smile. “What’s the difference between Commander Shepard . . . and a krogan?”

Shepard and I caught one another’s eyes.

“One is an unstoppable juggernaut of head-butting destruction . . .” I began.

“. . . and the other doesn’t have a smart-ass comm specialist to keep him in line,” he finished.

“Ooo, that’s almost better than the number-of-testicles punch line,” said Samantha. “You two must have heard that one.”

“Well, he’s Commander Shepard, and it turns out I have krogan relatives,” I told her. “We first heard that joke from Urdnot Wrex.”

Shepard smiled. “Glad to see you’re adjusting to life outside the lab, Traynor.”

“Well, I wasn’t a _complete_ recluse. Only about ninety percent. I do have you and Dr. T’Soni to thank for it. You’ve both made me welcome, and given me useful work to do, when I was practically a refugee on _Normandy_.”

“Please, call me Liara.” I gave her a warm smile. “And it was my pleasure.”

“Likewise, Traynor. You’re a real asset to this crew. Speaking of which . . .” Shepard rose from his seat and went to his desk for a moment, returning with a datapad. “It’s effective as of tomorrow, and we can do something more formal then, but I thought you would like to know.”

Samantha scanned the pad, and her eyes flew wide. “A promotion?”

“Petty Officer, Second Class Samantha Traynor,” said Shepard. “Kind of has a ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Why, I hardly know what to say.”

“It’s well deserved. Your technical scores are more than high enough. You’ve been doing the work of a more senior NCO. Time you carried the rank to go with it.”

“Well, _thank you_ , Commander.” She recovered quickly, flashing a smile at him again. “Not that I intend to let this tempt me into going easy on you, if you decide you want a rematch.”

“Sure thing. Set ‘em up.”

I cleared my throat. “I’ll play the winner.”

“I didn’t think you played chess, Liara,” said Shepard.

“I never have, but the rules seem simple enough.” I glanced at Samantha, giving her my best wide-blue-eyes innocent stare. “If you’re willing, of course.”

“Are you kidding? A chance to crush the great Commander Shepard _and_ the Shadow Broker in the same evening? Bring it on.”


	27. In the Wilderness

**_15 May 2186, Project Scarab Excavation Site/Namakli_ **

I looked ahead as our shuttle approached the Project Scarab facility. “Strange. The dig site appears to be set into the side of a cliff.”

Ashley’s eyes narrowed. “What are those things in the sky?”

Black shapes with enormous wing-spans, circling over the site. “If we can see them from this distance, they must be huge.”

“Harvesters,” said Cortez flatly.

My eyes widened. I had seen the flying Reaper platforms before, but never more than one at a time. Now I counted five or six. As we approached, I could see smoke rising from the lower levels of the site. A flare of light indicated an explosion.

“If the Reapers are here already, we need to play catch-up,” said Shepard. “Take us in, Cortez.”

“Copy that,” said the pilot.

I went back to the passenger compartment to check my weapons and gear for the last time. The others did the same, with a harsh technological clatter. Shepard and Ashley had their shotgun and rifle at the ready. Garrus made a microscopic adjustment to the sight on his sniper rifle. Javik stood motionless, stoic as ever, but his eyes burned with the need to enter battle.

“Commander! There, in that module!”

Shepard opened the side hatch. The shuttle hovered close to a module set high on the cliff. I could see a female human – Ann Bryson – standing at a control console and waving to us. A male human in light combat gear rushed up to stand beside her and peer up at us.

“That’s her,” yelled Shepard. “Cortez, bring us . . .”

Then the shuttle rocked to one side, and Cortez gunned the engines. Bryson’s module vanished behind us. All of us held on for the sake of our lives, as Cortez launched into a violent evasive maneuver.

A harvester pursued us. Then two.

“Tracking multiple bogeys!” shouted Cortez.

“Can you get us there?”

“Negative. It’s too hot.” Cortez checked his instruments. “There’s a lower platform I can get you to, but you’ll have to move fast!”

“Do it!”

A few moments of violent swooping flight, and then the shuttle slowed just enough to approach another platform.

 _“Jump!”_ ordered Shepard, and then he went flying. Ashley and Garrus followed him an instant later, and then Javik and I hurled ourselves into space. Not a moment too soon. _Three_ harvesters swept down on the shuttle, sending Cortez fleeing for his life.

Shepard took a moment to orient himself, and then pointed. “The platform where we saw Dr. Bryson was in that direction, and four or five levels up. We need to find a lift.”

_Wham! Wham!_

Explosions, uncomfortably close to our position. Then a red ball of flame erupted in front of us, and a single cannibal deployed from its midst, bringing its weapon to bear with a roar.

Shepard flash-charged forward, threw the creature off the side of the cliff with a nova-blast.

“Come on!” he ordered, and began to move.

The others followed him, alert and ready for a fight. I trailed behind, already half-stunned by the constant barrage of explosions. Harvesters bombarded the entire facility from above.

“This isn’t a dig site, it’s a war zone,” I muttered.

“No reason it can’t be both,” said Garrus.

_“Hello? Is anyone there? This is Dr. Ann Bryson. I’m coming down to find you.”_

Shepard activated his radio. “No! Stay where you are! This is Commander Shepard of the Alliance Navy, with a combat team. It’s too dangerous out here. We’ll come to you!”

We crossed a catwalk. A harvester saw us. I dove for cover as it bombarded our position with energy bolts. A prefab module just ahead of us lost its moorings and fell, only to wedge itself in place between two other modules.

_“Yes, okay! I think I see where you are. There’s an elevator about a hundred meters ahead of you. That should bring you up to our position.”_

“Copy that! We’re on our way!”

Shepard jumped down onto the top of the dislodged module, glanced around for a moment, and then led us forward. Husks appeared, clambering over the partially wrecked structures, and we all went into action. With five of us on the alert, three of us biotics, a few husks didn’t have much of a chance.

_I suspect it’s going to get more difficult before long._

That proved a good guess.

Not that the Reapers presented much more of a challenge at first. For the most part, they advanced in small squads of cannibals or husks, no match for the five of us. On a few occasions we had to hunker down behind cover and deal with artillery-piece ravagers, but we found no lack of cover.

At one point a _banshee_ attacked, just as we had stopped on a short stretch of open ground, behind a malfunctioning bridge. I’ve never done a faster job of field repair in my life, with that thing’s horrible shrieks echoing in my aural cavities the whole time.

No, the worst part was moving through a facility _even while it fell apart around us._

The construction had been ramshackle to begin with, a scattering of pre-fab modules attached to a scaffold against the side of a cliff. Then the Reapers had hit it with an artillery barrage, harvesters strafing the facility over and over again from the air. By the time we arrived, the bombardment had badly damaged the scaffolding and many of the modules. We had to deal with bent and twisted catwalks, modules slipped out of their frames and hanging at odd angles, ladders that led nowhere. A vast three-dimensional maze, with no guarantee that we would ever find a path to our destination.

Shepard – and _Javik,_ oddly enough – kept us together and moving forward. Shepard’s sense of situational awareness had always been exceptional. Javik turned out to have an uncanny sense of orientation in three dimensions. The two of them managed to keep track of the maze, long after the rest of us became completely lost.

We found a lot of bodies. Dr. Bryson had started with a team of almost fifty scientists and technicians. I began to fear we would find almost no survivors by the time we reached her.

In the end, we did find the lift up to the platform where she waited, only to have it jam halfway down to us.

“Ann!” called Shepard. “The elevator’s jammed just above our position. Is there another way up to you?”

_“I’ll override the pod door near you, Commander. There’s an access point above, but you’ll have to climb to it.”_

“Story of our lives.” Shepard glanced to the side, saw a door panel blink green. “Come on, through here!”

We climbed: through a drunkenly canted module, across a dangerously unstable snarl of wreckage, up onto the next level. There we found a squad of cannibals, and _three_ ravagers waiting for us. A difficult fight followed, with the ravagers themselves standing behind cover. Even Shepard switched to his sidearm for its greater precision, placing careful three-round bursts on the mutated rachni when they exposed themselves to fire on us.

_“Commander, they’ve hit my assistant, Hopkins. We’re being cornered!”_

I frowned. Dr. Bryson had sounded reasonably cool and collected when she first called us, but now I heard panic in her voice.

“Stay hidden, Doctor!” Shepard commanded.

_“We’re trying, but there are too many of them and I think they’ve figured out where the last of us are. Hurry!”_

Finally we managed to reach the level we needed. Better yet, we found ourselves at the back of the scaffold, able to jump across to a ledge on the cliff face itself.

I glanced at the stone beside us and gasped. “Shepard, look!”

He stopped and stared.

Petroglyphs. Shallow carvings in the rock face, with pigments smeared into the cuts to enhance their contrast. Quite ordinary in technique and execution. Quite extraordinary in subject.

Across the bottom, a row of stylized bipedal figures, in postures that spoke of some strong emotion. Awe? Fear? Worship?

Above them, drawn in loving detail, a creature of enormous size. Long, oval body, several appendages that might be legs or manipulators.

“Good Lord,” said Shepard reverently. “Is that a Reaper?”

“It certainly looks similar,” I said, unwilling to commit myself. “It reminds me of some of the footage I saw from Eden Prime, when _Sovereign_ came down to hover over the colony.”

“The colors are strange,” said Javik. “Reapers are an unrelieved black in color. Why would the artist use red and brown pigments as well?”

“I wonder who the artist _was,”_ said Shepard. “Liara, did native sentient life ever exist here?”

“The colonists never managed a serious study, but they did find a few bones and artifacts. Apparently a bipedal species lived here at one time, before the last surface water vanished. They appear to have died out about twenty thousand years ago.”

“How old are these carvings?”

“That’s difficult to guess without laboratory studies.”

“Could they be a billion years old?” asked Garrus.

I scoffed. “Oh, certainly _not_. This rock face appears to be in the shade for most or all of the local day, and the air is very dry. Even so, petroglyphs like this could not possibly survive for more than a few tens of thousands of years. I would wager a large sum that these carvings don’t even date back to the Prothean era.”

Garrus made a thoughtful rumble deep in his chest. “So if this represents a real event, it happened _between_ the end of the Prothean cycle and the present.”

“Yes.” I caught the turian’s gaze. “I see where you’re going with this. If this is a Reaper, what was it doing visiting Namakli at a time when all the Reapers were supposedly out in dark space?”

“Except for _Sovereign,”_ Ashley pointed out.

“True.” Shepard glanced around. “We’re out of time. Liara, take a few scans of this for later analysis, and then we’ve got to get moving.”

I obeyed, and we moved out along the ledge. Unfortunately we lost our cover very quickly, and the Reapers spotted us.

_Boom – boom – boomboomboom!_

Red fireballs erupted along the ledge in front of us. A squad of cannibals, led by a brute, emerged from their deployment shells and charged. We responded with a hail of gunfire and biotic effects. Shepard ended the engagement by flash-charging the brute. Already weakened, it pitched backward and fell off the ledge entirely.

“Ann, are you still there?”

_“Barely, Commander. Hopkins is wounded bad. Are you close?”_

“Moving as fast as we can. I don’t think we’re more than a few moments away. Hang in there!”

Then a passing harvester fired on a support pylon, just a few meters ahead of us. It began to buckle.

“Shepard, that platform’s coming down!” I shouted.

Shepard and Ashley backpedaled frantically, just in time to avoid being crushed by tons of falling metal and ceramic.

“Around!” he shouted. “Go around!”

 _“No, no! Boyles, stay down!”_ Dr. Bryson’s voice paused for a moment. _“Oh God . . .”_

“Ann, what’s happening? You okay?”

_“Kirkwood and Boyles tried to make a run for it. The Reapers got them.”_

“Keep your head down. We’re almost there!”

We continued to advance. There seemed to be more Reapers: cannibals, marauders, yet another pair of ravagers firing out of cover. Shepard directed our movements like a technician doing fine work with his tools, keeping us under cover, firing at the enemy, always on the advance.

One more climb, a quick sprint across the roof of a damaged prefab module, then down a ladder. The access point for the elevator appeared just in front of us.

For the first time in many minutes, I had a chance to look out across the planet’s sky, all the way to the distant horizon.

 _“Merciful Goddess,”_ I breathed.

The sky was _alive_ with harvesters. I had seen five or six on the shuttle flight in. Now I saw at least _twenty_ circling around out there. Our shuttle soared in the distance, desperately dog-fighting with three of the Reaper platforms.

Shepard made a call on the Alliance channel. “Cortez. You still out there?”

_“Things are a little more exciting than I usually prefer, Commander. At least the shuttle is more maneuverable than one of these things, and I have guns too.”_

“We’ve almost reached Dr. Bryson. Can you extract us?”

_“We don’t have much choice, Commander. We’re only likely to get one shot at it if we try.”_

“Roger that. I’ll be in touch.”

We hurried aboard the elevator, at any moment expecting a squadron of harvesters to notice our presence and blast us into oblivion. Perhaps Cortez provided enough of a distraction. We reached the top alive, and made our way into the command module where we had seen Dr. Bryson a half hour before.

We found the scientist curled up in a corner, still holding the hand of a dead man. She raised hollow eyes and a tear-streaked face to us as we appeared.

“He tried to run,” she said in a small voice. “I told him not to, but he wanted to help the others. Are they all gone?”

Shepard knelt to look closely at her. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I don’t think any of your people made it. I need you to come with me.”

She took a deep, shaky breath, and seemed to regain control over herself. “Oh, God. Yes, of course. You’re Commander Shepard?”

“Yes. You’ve probably heard of Dr. Liara T’Soni. My other associates: Commander Ashley Williams, Garrus Vakarian, and Javik.”

Dr. Bryson peered around at all of us, gave me a small nod of recognition, _stared_ at Javik.

He clearly recognized the look. “Yes. I am a Prothean.”

“How . . . Never mind. We can talk about it later.”

“Good idea.” Shepard gestured for us to set out back across the cliff face, toward the nearest landing platform. Ashley and Garrus led the way, Javik and me following, then Shepard with a gentle hand on Ann’s elbow to encourage her.

We moved along another ledge, flitting from cover to cover, somehow escaping the harvesters’ notice.

“I was at another dig site when they attacked,” said Ann as we waited for an opportunity to move on. “I got back as quickly as I could, but . . . What’s happening?”

“We hoped you could tell us that,” said Shepard. He pointed to another set of petroglyphs, larger than before but with a similar subject, carved into the cliff not far from our position. “Is that Leviathan?”

“Yes.” Ann’s voice became stronger as she took refuge in dry scientific data. “Yes, we think so. These carvings go back as far as forty thousand years before the present. Look at the way the little figures cower. It’s as if they’re under its power.”

“It looks like a Reaper.”

“The shape is right. The colors are strange, but we don’t know anything about the natives’ artistic conventions. Maybe they felt compelled to add color when they created this representation. It might be a Reaper, but if so it’s acting alone. Not like any of the Reapers we’ve seen before.”

 _“Sovereign_ acted alone,” Shepard pointed out. “We think it stayed behind between cycles, to monitor the progress of organic civilizations and trigger the next cycle at the right point.”

“Maybe. There’s something else. Something we found. An artifact, not like any Reaper technology we’ve ever seen.”

“An artifact. Like a big sphere of rock crystal?”

Ann nodded. “Yes. Incredible. It’s just ahead of us.”

Shepard made a gesture to start us moving once more. I tried to stay close to him and to Dr. Bryson.

“It may sound strange, but I’m certain this artifact affects people, their behavior.” Ann shrugged. “We only found it a few days ago, and left it _in situ_ to preserve the context. I’ve had almost no chance to study it.”

Shepard nodded. “That’s not strange at all. Some of your other teams found similar artifacts elsewhere.”

“I did learn something about the energy it generates and transmits . . .”

 _“Get down!”_ hissed Ashley, from her position on point.

We all took cover, and tried to see what was ahead of us.

I saw the landing platform, teeming with Reaper creatures on patrol. Behind it, on a ledge carved into the cliff face, three marauders clustered around another of the crystal spheres. They had clearly pulled it out of its matrix in the rock face. The sphere glowed _brightly,_ far more than any of the artifacts we had seen thus far. One of the marauders engaged it with a biotic or energetic effect, a halo of static discharge snapping between the artifact and the once-turian’s body.

“What are they doing?” whispered Ashley, as she crouched behind cover.

“They’ve activated it somehow,” said Ann. “I never managed . . .”

I think I was the only one of us watching her face at just that moment. I saw when her expression went completely blank, as if her mind simply shut down all at once. She stepped out from her position of concealment, almost out into the open, advancing slowly on the Reapers.

“Doctor?” Shepard managed to grab her arm, stop her advance.

“ **They’ve learned too well** ,” said Ann’s body, but it was not her voice. “ **The darkness must not be breached!** ”

“Shepard!” I called in warning.

He realized what was happening. “Garrus! Take that thing out!”

Garrus half-rose out of his cover, brought his Mantis to bear, fired once.

The artifact exploded, throwing all three of the marauders off their feet.

Ann collapsed, but only for a moment. She rose to her hands and knees, shaking her head in confusion.

“You okay?” Shepard activated his suit comm. “Cortez, we have Ann Bryson! We need immediate extraction!”

_“Solid copy. On my way.”_

Shepard turned to Ann, who was shakily getting to her feet once more. “You see that shuttle, you _run._ Don’t look back!”

“Yes. Okay.”

Then Shepard led us out to battle. The landing platform had to be cleared if Ann – unarmed, unarmored, and completely without combat experience – was to have any chance to reach the shuttle. Ashley, Javik, and I took positions under cover and applied pressure from the side. Meanwhile, Shepard and Garrus worked their way around to the right, moving up onto a raised platform along the back of the landing area.

Only then did we discover that Ann’s people had recently unloaded a shipment of high explosives, just before the Reaper attack. Crates of the material still sat scattered about the landing area.

I saw this and had just a moment to gape in horror. Then a harvester descended from above, firing at anything that moved.

The result was _impressive_.

A chain reaction of explosions swept across the platform, with a roar like the voice of an angry deity. The blasts simply _shredded_ most of the Reaper troops caught in the open. Those few who survived staggered away, stunned and confused.

Ashley glanced around her, taking stock. Javik and I had managed to drop behind cover just in time. We felt just as stunned as the Reaper troops, but had taken no serious injury. Ann had been a few meters behind us, and was likewise unhurt.

“Shepard?” called Ashley.

Silence, for a heart-stopping moment. Then his voice came over the comm. _“Still here. Garrus is hurt but alive. Damn, that was close. Take out that harvester!”_

“Aye-aye.” She turned to the rest of us. “You heard the man.”

All of us concentrated our attacks on the giant beast, catching it in a cross-fire once Shepard joined in from his position. It swept its monstrous head from side to side, firing its energy cannon, but we usually found it easy to see where it would attack next. We wore it down, blasting away bits of its carapace to expose the flesh and mechanisms beneath. Finally it began to buckle . . .

 _“Get down!”_ shouted Ashley.

The thing exploded, like a small nuclear device going off a few meters away. The blast blinded me, and threw me off my feet. My head collided with some hard object, and I saw stars.

When I came to, I found that Ashley and Javik had picked me up, one of them under each of my arms as they half-dragged me along. Just ahead, I saw Ann Bryson leap from the edge of the platform onto our shuttle.

I put up a small fight, enough to convince my friends to put me down. I found myself strong enough to stand on my own feet, at least for a few moments. “Where’s Shepard?”

“Here.” He and Garrus loomed up behind me, leaning on each other like a pair of drunkards, but moving along at a staggering run. “Go!” he ordered.

I turned to the shuttle. Ashley had to help me clamber aboard.


	28. Breaching the Darkness

**_15 May 2186, Interstellar Space_ **

I found Dr. Bryson in the bottom of the ship, the crawlspace under Engineering where Jack had once lurked. I heard her before I saw her, the muffled sounds of weeping leading me back into the red-lit shadows.

I walked across the deck to the old hidey-hole, and sat down on a pallet next to a huddled shape. Ann had tucked herself up into a ball, arms around her knees and her head bowed. She raised reddened eyes to peer at me in the dim light.

“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “Dr. T’Soni.”

“I was concerned for you,” I said quietly. “Are you well?”

“Yes.” She sighed and shook her head. “No. I don’t know.”

“It _has_ been a terrible day.”

She said nothing, only buried her face in her knees once more. I sighed and shifted on the pallet, put one arm around her shoulders, and held her close as she struggled.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a few minutes. “It’s just . . . this is hard.”

“I understand.”

“To lose my whole team. Everyone who went to Namakli with me is dead, and it’s my fault.”

“It’s the Reapers’ fault, not yours,” I told her firmly.

“I led everyone there. I didn’t get them out in time.”

We sat in silence for a long time.

“I had a day like this once,” I told her at last.

She blinked at me. “What happened?”

“You’ve heard of a human colony named Ferris Fields?”

“I think so. Wasn’t it a casualty during the Collector attacks last year?”

“Yes. I went there with a team, the day the Collectors came. We hoped to gather intelligence about them, something to help us fight back. We were succeeding. The Collectors hadn’t seen us. Then we had a chance to rescue someone, a single human, away from the main settlement when the attack began. I decided to make the attempt, despite the obvious danger.” I sighed, not wanting to remember what followed. “The Collectors nearly killed me. They _did_ kill two members of my team. Including my best friend’s bondmate.”

“That’s terrible.”

“She forgave me. Somehow.” My arm tightened around her shoulders. “Believe me, it _does_ get better, no matter how impossible that may seem at the time.”

“I know.” She sighed, snuffling slightly with the tears. “Still. It was terrible, listening while the Reapers killed them one by one, not able to do anything. Knowing they would eventually find me too.”

“We found you first.” I shifted, resting my cheek on top of her head. “Ann, no matter how dark things seem, there’s still hope. Shepard and I need you to help us find Leviathan.”

“I’m not sure how much help I can be.” She stirred, raised a hand to scrub at her cheeks. “My father is dead, Alex Garneau is dead, and the whole task force is shattered. We can’t even be sure what Leviathan _is_ , much less where it might be hiding.”

“What about the artifacts? Those are a new development.”

“True. I’ll have to give that some thought on the way back to the Citadel.” Ann took a deep breath, resting her head on my shoulder. “It’s hard to think right now. On top of everything else, to lose my father . . .”

“I’m sorry. I admired Garret greatly.”

“He talked about you more than once. Told stories about his time on Thessia with you.”

“Were the two of you close?”

She snorted. “Not really. He took good care of my mother and me, always saw to our welfare, but he always reserved his passion for his work. Sometimes I think I became a paleontologist just so my father would notice my existence more often.”

I made a noncommittal sound.

“I know, that sounds harsh. I suppose it wasn’t really that bad. He wasn’t cruel or malicious. He was just so _committed_ to his work. Obsessed, even, and it made him very distant. He almost didn’t make it to my graduation because he was out on a dig again. Showed up at the last minute, still in his field gear.”

“He loved science,” I agreed. “The search for truth, for clear understanding. He had a burning need to bring that understanding to the rest of the galaxy.”

“Yes.” Her voice changed, and when I glanced down at her face I could see a faint smile. “He could be so _full_ of stories, almost ready to _burst_. Stories about history, civilizations of the past. I always loved that about him. I suppose that’s really why I followed in his footsteps, signed up to help with the task force.”

I waited in silence.

“God. I still can’t believe he’s just _gone.”_

“We’ll find what took him from us,” I promised.

“We have to. I need to know what’s on the other end of those artifacts. What he died for.”

I sat with her for a while longer, in silence. Then a thought came to me. “Ann, here’s another thing to think about. You remember my story about Ferris Fields?”

She nodded.

“I mentioned that we went out to rescue one human, and paid a steep price as a result. What I didn’t tell you is that we _succeeded_ with the rescue, despite everything else that went wrong. You’ve met the one we managed to save. Lieutenant Cortez, the shuttle pilot.”

“Steven?” Ann smiled faintly. “At least something good came out of it. He’s a remarkable man.”

“That he is,” I agreed. “One of the bravest humans I’ve ever met. We couldn’t have saved you today without him. So you see, one can never tell from which direction hope will arrive. So long as we live, Ann, we have to keep trying.”

“You’re right.” She sat up, emerging from my embrace to take a deep breath and prepare to stand. “Thank you, Liara.”

* * *

 _Normandy_ seemed a quiet ship, on the way back to the Citadel.

Shepard spent hours consulting with the Alliance and the Council, planning the next stages of the war against Cerberus and the Reapers. Samantha and I took the opportunity to overhaul the integration of our intelligence feeds with the Shadow Broker’s systems. Engineer Adams and his team did a high-level diagnostic of the ship’s systems, locating a number of potential maintenance and repair issues. Ashley and James drilled the Marines on the staging deck.

At first, Ann Bryson wandered about the ship like her own ghost, occasionally consulting with me or with EDI, otherwise keeping to herself. She tried to pursue her own research. She tried to contact the remaining fragments of Task Force Aurora. None of this was of much use, unless it served to distract her from all the things she had lost in the past few weeks.

Then, after the first day, she began to spend many hours on the staging deck. Much to my surprise, she struck up a friendship with Steven Cortez and James Vega.

On reflection I could understand the attraction to Cortez. The two of them were very similar in intelligence and temperament, and given Steven’s sexual preferences he would pose no threat of further emotional distress.

On the other hand, she seemed to have very little in common with Vega. I watched James carefully when I first became aware that he was spending so much time with her. I worried that he might be putting undue pressure on her, or that he might be considering a betrayal of his relationship with Treeya Nuwani.

I soon saw that I need not have been concerned. He patiently _listened_ to her, asked pertinent questions to draw her out, told her jokes of execrable quality, escorted her to meals in the crew mess, and showed not the slightest sign of sexual interest. His physical presence, big and powerful and very reassuring, seemed to do her good. I finally remembered that for all his bulk and rough history, James had a gentle soul and a great deal of compassion. His attention would do Ann Bryson nothing but good.

By the time _Normandy_ dropped out of FTL near the Citadel, she seemed ready to face her enemies.

* * *

**_18 May 2186, Task Force Aurora Facility/Citadel_ **

“The place feels so empty now,” Ann said.

“I hope you can find _something_ here,” said Shepard. “I’m afraid you may be our last chance to find Leviathan.”

She nodded decisively. “Let me dig and see what I can turn up. Come on.”

“Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“Yes.” She turned to give Shepard a determined stare. “You know, when Leviathan took control of me, back on Namakli, I remember being somewhere cold and dark. My father taught me never to be afraid of the dark.”

We moved into the facility, pausing by the fragment of _Sovereign_.

“I’m still amazed your dad got his hands on a chunk of a Reaper,” said James, looking up at the relic.

“It’s strange,” said Ann. “My father was actually _excited_ when he learned of Commander Shepard’s claims about the Reapers. He had suspected for a long time that something like them must exist. He went to Admiral Hackett immediately after the Battle of the Citadel and asked for the opportunity to examine the remains of _Sovereign.”_

“What precautions did you take to avoid indoctrination?” I asked.

“We had access to your reports from Virmire, and that gave us a few ideas as to how to defend ourselves. We kept it completely shielded the whole time, and all of us had regular psychological evaluations. No one reported any of the symptoms of indoctrination, at least not before I left for Namakli.” She sighed, staring up at the relic. “Of course, now I’m indoctrinated after all, thanks to the artifact we found there.”

“Not necessarily,” said Shepard. “Whatever Leviathan does, it doesn’t seem to be the same as Reaper indoctrination.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just like a rachni drone, awaiting orders from the queen.”

“You’ve studied the rachni?” Shepard asked.

“Yes. I wrote my dissertation on them. Dad once claimed that was a waste of my time, that the rachni had nothing to do with our work, but now I’m not so sure. Maybe the rachni can help us understand Leviathan.”

“How so?”

“Well, we think of the rachni as telepathic, but there’s really no such thing.”

I frowned. “We asari might beg to disagree.”

“That’s not quite what I mean. Yes, asari can share their consciousness and memories with others, but that’s not some spooky immaterial phenomenon. There’s a solidly physical mechanism for it, something that can be detected and studied.”

“True.”

“In any case, the asari joining is something that can only be done at very short range, often requiring physical contact. Leviathan can exert control over thousands of light-years. So can the Reapers, and so can the rachni.”

“How?” Shepard demanded.

“Well, at short range, the queen uses pheromones to communicate and deliver orders. At long range, she uses a natural quantum-entanglement system.”

“Like the QEC aboard a modern starship.”

“Exactly. Whatever Leviathan does must be similar, setting up entanglement with particles in the victim’s nervous system, stimulating neural activity as it pleases.”

“I don’t see how that could work,” I objected. “I’m not an expert in quantum physics, but as I understand it the particles to be entangled have to be in close contact while the relationship is set up.”

“That’s right,” said Dr. Bryson, still looking confident. “When a QEC is constructed, the matrices for the qubits in both transmitter and receiver are built together. A rachni drone grows up in close proximity to its mother, the queen. With Leviathan . . .”

“The artifacts!” James burst out.

She nodded. “It must use an artifact to make the connection with its victim’s brain, and that _does_ require close physical proximity.”

All of us walked back into the main planning office, where the galaxy map and the artifact waited for us.

“We never detected any energy emissions from this,” said Shepard, watching the dark crystal sphere as it waited behind its shimmering blue shield.

“However it produces the effect, it must be beyond our ability to detect for now,” said Ann.

“Still, at both Mahavid and Namakli, the Reapers tried to use the artifacts to trace Leviathan somehow.”

“My guess is most of the time, the artifact acts only as a receiver.” Ann turned and walked over to the storage bay, staring up at the artifact with clear distaste. “It monitors its environment, but aside from that it just sits and waits for contact. When Leviathan doesn’t need anything, it doesn’t bother to communicate. We might only be able to trace Leviathan while the artifact is actively being used to control someone.”

“Can we trace it even then?” Shepard asked. “A QEC is untraceable.”

“This isn’t just a QEC. Leviathan has to send a pulse through the artifact to take control of your mind and activate the entanglement effect. That pulse, we might be able to trace.”

“Like at the dig site on Namakli,” I suggested.

“Yes. The Reaper creatures activated the artifact, opened their defenses just a bit so Leviathan could try to take control of one of them. Then the others worked to trace the signal.” She sighed, apparently losing the thread of logic for a moment. “My father wanted to be there, but he was getting too old for the long digs. He had to stay here and coordinate our work. He hated being stuck in the lab. God, he must have hated dying here.”

Shepard moved close to her, touched her shoulder gently. “Ann, I know this is hard, but if there’s anything more you can tell us . . .”

“I don’t think there’s anything more I can _tell_ you,” said Dr. Bryson, “but maybe there’s something I can _show_ you.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting that we let Leviathan take control of my mind again. Long enough for Dr. T’Soni to trace the signal back to its origin.”

“That’s damn dangerous,” James said. “The last person who was taken over in this lab killed your dad and then died himself.”

“That’s my call, not yours.” Her jaw set in determination. “Commander, you said I’m your last chance to find this thing.”

“We have no idea what will happen,” Shepard said gently.

“We know one thing. If we wait and take the time to study all the possibilities, then the Reapers will get to Leviathan first.” Ann crossed over to the artifact once more, this time glaring at it with open hatred. “You’re looking for some way to fight the Reapers. I’m looking for the monster that murdered my father. This is personal, Commander. This is my risk to take.”

Slowly, Shepard nodded.

We made what preparations we could. Shepard placed a lab bench in front of the storage bay, close to the artifact and within easy reach of the controls for its shielding. I worked with the galaxy map and the lab’s sensors, getting ready to trace the energy pulse we expected to see the moment Leviathan locked onto Ann’s mind. Ann sat down, obviously fighting for composure, and James went to stand behind her.

“I’ll be right here,” he said, resting his hands gently on her shoulders.

She smiled up at him and patted one of his hands for a moment.

“Ready,” I reported at last.

“You sure about this?” asked Shepard one last time.

“Yes,” she said, looking down at the floor as if preparing her courage. “I’m sure.”

“Okay. James, drop the containment.”

James punched the master control with one meaty fist. “Done.”

The shielding vanished. Within seconds, a shimmer of blue-green light appeared deep inside the artifact.

I saw some of my instruments flicker and rise above the zero point.

“The artifact is online,” I reported.

“Anything?” asked Shepard.

“Nothing yet.”

The instruments jittered, began to rise steadily.

James hovered over Ann, watching her closely.

“Wait,” she said, fear in her voice. “There’s something.”

I glanced across at her, saw her raise her eyes to look at the rest of us.

 _“I feel a chill,”_ she whispered.

“Liara, anything?”

I shook my head, staring at my instruments. “Nothing yet.”

A low hum sounded, an almost mechanical sound. I glanced to the side just in time to see the artifact _light up_ , the blue-green glow surging to something that could have illuminated the entire space.

Ann tried to leap to her feet.

James clamped down on her shoulders, holding her in place, trying to steady her as she struggled. “Holy hell!”

My instrument panel lit up. At once, I rushed to deal with a sudden flood of data, collating it as quickly as I could and sending the results to the galaxy map. “Signal is tracking. Maintain the connection!”

“ **Turn back** ,” said Ann, but it didn’t sound like her voice. “ **The darkness must not be breached.** ”

“ _Dios!”_ shouted James. I could hear the sounds of a scuffle, but I didn’t dare look away from my controls even for an instant.

_If James can’t keep control over a woman half his size . . ._

“Maintain the connection!” I shouted, half in a panic.

“Listen to me!” Shepard commanded, addressing Dr. Bryson. Or whatever had taken control of her. “We’ve _found_ you, and the Reapers are right behind us.”

“ **You have brought them. You are a threat.** ”

“So are you. I’ve seen what you can do. The war needs you.”

“ **There is no war. There is only the harvest.** ”

“Liara, do we have enough?”

“I have a partial lock,” I answered, breathless. “A cluster. I can’t narrow it down to a single system yet.”

James growled, “That’s gotta be enough, Loco. I’m hitting the shield.”

“Do it!”

 _Thump_.

Everything on my panel fell to zero at once. I looked over, saw the artifact inert once more behind its shield, Dr. Bryson slumped over in the burly Marine’s arms.

“Man,” James muttered, bending close to see if she was well.

She shook her head, brought a hand to her face, and looked up at the rest of us. “I’m all right, I think. Did we get anything useful?”

Shepard glanced at me.

“Sigurd’s Cradle cluster,” I reported. “Most likely to rimward and trailing.”

“How many systems in that area?”

“Dozens . . .” I stopped, thinking hard. “Or perhaps not. My network is active in that cluster, and I know the region reasonably well. You remember, Shepard, where we met before you launched your assault on the Collector base?”

“The Taranis colony, in the Mil system. I remember.”

“There’s a volume of space a few light-years to trailing of there, barely charted and not at all explored. That region has a bad reputation among the merchant captains who work the cluster. It sees very little traffic, but even so a disproportionate number of ships have disappeared there over the years. I understand humans call it the _Delta Triangle.”_

“I’ve heard of it,” said James. “Ghost stories.”

“Or not, if Leviathan hides somewhere in there and is defending itself.”

“How many systems in this Delta Triangle?” asked Shepard.

I checked the galaxy map. “No more than a dozen. We may be able to narrow that down if we look at the data for each system in detail. It’s close to the locus of highest probability for the origin of the Leviathan signal.”

“It’s a start.”

“Commander, I sensed something else.” Ann stood and came over to look at the galaxy map with us. “Anger. I think it knows you’re getting close.”

Shepard smiled grimly. “Good.”

“Be careful, Commander. I think it wants to kill you.”

“It’s not the first. Come on. Let’s get you some help.”


	29. Wreck

**_22 May 2186, Despoina Approach_ **

Our shuttle dropped into the outer atmosphere of an uncharted planet, bouncing slightly in the high reaches of a storm.

“I’m tracking the probe now, Commander. It’s picking up a strong match for the Leviathan signal.” Cortez frowned, glancing over his shoulder at Shepard. “Kind of spooky, how Ann helped us locate it.”

“Strange, to find Leviathan on a planet like this,” I observed.

“What can you tell us about it?” asked Shepard.

“It’s a pelagic world. No significant land surface. Plenty of sea life, including photosynthetic plants. The atmosphere is breathable, but hostile.”

James grunted. “How so?”

“Storms,” said Ashley. “I saw a planet like this once, back in Alliance space. With no continents to tear them down, hurricanes just keep pulling energy out of the ocean and growing. They can last for years, circle around the whole planet dozens of times before they wander into the polar regions, or collide with another storm and collapse.”

Shepard nodded. “Those deep oceans might provide Leviathan with a good place to hide.”

“You think a Reaper could hide out at the bottom of an ocean?” James shook his head. “They always seemed more like living starships, you know? At home in deep space, not under pressure like that.”

“I imagine with their technology, they can go almost anywhere they want,” said Shepard.

“If it doesn’t want to be found, this is a good place,” said Garrus.

“It doesn’t have any choice in the matter. We’re here, and we’re not leaving until we talk to it.”

“Yes, but then what?” asked Javik quietly. “If it is a Reaper? They are _monsters_. Never to be trusted.”

“Nobody said we have to make friends with it. If it has the other Reapers worried, then we need its help.”

“Commander, we’re approaching the origin of the signal,” Cortez reported. “It’s what we were afraid of.”

“Talk to me, Cortez.”

“There’s nothing but ocean.” The pilot peered at his instruments. “I’m reading a cluster of structures floating on the surface, but the probe and the Leviathan signal read below that. Way below.”

Shepard folded his arms, scowling. “Can we reach it?”

“Probably. The Kodiak is designed for nearly a thousand atmospheres of pressure, although I’ve never actually tested that.”

“I guess we’re going to find out . . .”

_WHAM!_

The shuttle lurched, _hard_ , almost standing on its nose before Cortez could stabilize us. All of us in the passenger compartment went flying. Ashley grunted as she landed badly, then again as I fell on top of her. I muttered apologies and started to disentangle myself.

The shuttle didn’t feel right at all. The engines had gone silent.

_“Status!”_ Shepard snapped.

“Some kind of pulse hit us,” said the pilot, his voice completely flat. “Systems are shutting down. Brace for impact!”

Ashley and I lurched to our feet, supporting each other, and then frantically grabbed for safety straps.

The shuttle fell, barely maintaining attitude with maneuvering thrusters alone. A sudden lurch threw James and Garrus off their feet once more.

“I’ve changed my mind about this ride,” the turian muttered. “Any chance I can get the money for my ticket back?”

Then the shuttle struck some solid object, with a crash loud enough to wake the dead. We skidded across a surface, metal by the sound of it, and everyone fought to hang on. Another collision, not so violent this time, a few more moments of skidding, and then we stopped with a final lurch.

“Everyone okay?” groaned Shepard, the only one of us still on his feet.

Javik grunted. “I’ve survived far worse, Commander.”

The rest of us agreed, less verbally.

Shepard staggered over to the hatch, checked the sensor panel next to it, and then opened it. Warm, humid air rolled into the cabin, along with some rain. He jumped down, Garrus and Javik right behind him.

I regained my balance and followed, looking around.

Cortez had managed to bring us down on the back of a large starship, clearly a bulk freighter of some kind. Someone had brought cargo containers and tarpaulins out onto the ship’s hull, tying them down to create crude supply dumps and shelters. I didn’t see any sign of the ship’s crew. Nothing moved but the high winds, the rain slashing across the deck, and the wreck’s vast bulk rocking on the world-ocean.

“Cortez, how’s the shuttle?”

_“Checking systems now, Commander. I’ll see if I can get power restored.”_

“Copy that. We’ll look around.”

Shepard signaled with his hands, allocating missions, and we fanned out across the wreck. Ashley and James moved off to our left, Javik to the right, while Garrus climbed up on one of the supply dumps for a sniper’s view. Shepard and I stepped down from the platform where the shuttle had come to rest, and headed for one of the closest shelters.

_“Commander, check it out.”_

We looked across the hull and saw Ashley in the middle distance, pointing out to sea. Barely visible a few kilometers away, we could see _another_ wreck even larger than our own, also floating on the surface of the ocean.

“I see it. Whatever that pulse was, we’re not the first ones to get hit.”

_“Think this explains those ghost stories about the Delta Triangle?”_

“Some of them at least. Could be Leviathan’s last line of defense.”

_“This is a place of death,”_ said Javik. _“These ships appear to have been drifting for a very long time.”_

“This star system was only charted five years ago,” I objected.

_“How was it done?”_

“By remote probe. The probe never approached this planet more closely than a few million kilometers,” I realized.

_“Rrrh. Obviously some ships had reason to visit this system and approach more closely. Perhaps they hoped to use this uncharted world as a rendezvous point for illegal trade. Then Leviathan took them.”_

We approached a set of shelters. Shepard bent suddenly, picking up a discarded datapad.

“It’s a personal log,” he said after a moment. “It identifies this ship as the MSV _Monarch.”_

I nodded. “That’s one of the ships that went missing in this region of space.”

“It says the crew managed to rig the ship for flotation before they crashed. They didn’t know what hit them. Some kind of directed-energy weapon was their guess. They tried to restore power and get the mass effect core back online.” He sighed and dropped the pad. “Obviously they never managed it.”

“Here’s one of the shelters . . .”

Suddenly I recoiled in horror. Three corpses, long since lost to decay, sprawled around a makeshift table and over a crude cot. A scattering of ration packs, all empty. A medikit, open, its contents ruined by moisture and the open air. Tucked in a shadowed corner, a sphere of apparent rock crystal, a hint of shimmering blue-green light deep in its core.

Shepard stepped closer, while I stood back with a hand over my mouth and tried to wrestle my gut into submission.

“That’s one of the artifacts,” I breathed at last.

“Explains why no one ever gets out of here,” he said. He picked up another datapad. “This one’s dated. Seven years ago, long before the Alliance mapping probe came through. They never got the reactor or the mass effect core back online, and the distress beacon was fried too. They couldn’t catch any of the native sea life, and they weren’t sure it would be edible anyway. The rations were low. They could catch rainwater for drinking, but . . .”

“Goddess. They must have starved to death.”

“Looks that way.”

“Is that what’s in store for us?”

He gave me a determined stare. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

_“More over here, Loco,”_ said James. _“They brought up some of the native life just before the rations gave out, but it must have been some kind of poison. Couldn’t eat any of it. They sent a raft over to another wreck, but that didn’t bring back anything but more of these artifacts.”_

“Let’s keep moving.”

We moved further out onto the wreck. I glanced behind us, and saw the shuttle in the distance, smaller than I had expected.

_“Commander. I have found something.”_

We converged on Javik’s position and found him standing in front of a large machine: cockpit, two arms, two legs, and no sign of life.

“What is that?” asked Garrus. “Some kind of mech?”

“Looks a little like an Atlas,” said Ashley.

Shepard nodded. “Yeah. Different design, though, and not painted in Cerberus colors. Besides, seven years ago Cerberus didn’t even have Atlas mechs yet.”

“One of the crew logs we found talked about something called _Triton mechs,”_ said James. “Some sort of diving equipment?”

“Maybe.” Shepard had _that_ expression on his face, the one I associated with sudden reckless inspiration. “This one looks pretty badly damaged. Let’s see if we can find some more.”

As we moved forward again, I approached Shepard. “You’re planning something.”

“Not really.” He glanced at me, tried to look reassuring. “It just occurred to me, if Leviathan is hiding in the depths of this ocean . . .”

“Goddess. I sincerely hope we _don’t_ find any more of those mechs in working order.”

“Liara, we may not have many choices here. If Cortez can’t get the shuttle airborne again . . .”

“I know.” I thought of one of us descending into the pitch blackness of the abyss, with no assurance that she would find _anything_ down there, or that she would be able to return. I shuddered. “Let’s make that our _last_ option.”

He nodded, but I could tell he felt unwilling to commit himself.

Javik’s voice snapped over the comm link. _“Look! Up there!”_

Shepard and I glanced up into the storm-wracked sky . . .

An enormous sound, at once like a great horn and a clap of thunder, echoing from horizon to horizon. There, emerging from the clouds, a vast shape. _A Reaper._

“They were right behind us!” I shouted.

“All hands, fall back!” commanded Shepard. “Protect the shuttle!”

We turned, began to dash back toward Cortez and the shuttle. Then _boom-boom-boom_ , and deep crimson glare bloomed on all sides.

Reaper deployment pods. Husks. Cannibals. Marauders.

The Reapers had already emerged deep in the middle of our formation, attacking anyone within reach the moment they emerged from their pods. We didn’t have time to form any kind of perimeter. We found ourselves in a wild melee for our lives, unable to support one another.

Shepard and I went back-to-back, standing in the lee of a stack of shipping containers, and began to fight.

“Cortez! What’s your status?”

_“Swapping out some parts, Commander. Hang on!”_

A fire-team of cannibals bracketed us with weapons fire, but we saw they stood too close together. I tagged them with a wide biotic pull, yanking all three into the air at once, and then Shepard’s shockwave smashed them into paste.

_“Son of a bitch!”_ Ashley’s voice, high-pitched with tension. _“You could hit them with grenades a little farther out, four-eyes.”_

_“Shoot them faster, human.”_

A flood of husks charged us. One of them recoiled and fell, a sniper’s shot from Garrus putting the thing down, but the rest nearly swarmed us under before I constructed a singularity in their path.

“Cortez?”

_“Almost there, Commander.”_

“It’s getting a little busier than I like out here!”

Marauders. I hated marauders. I couldn’t easily exert my biotics against them, protected as they were by inherent kinetic barriers. My own barriers melted down, little by little . . .

Shepard saw the problem. He flash-charged, then reached high and slammed down his fist, scattering warped turians like chaff in the wind. Then again, to smash a fire-team of cannibals. Then _again_ , to hurl a half-dozen husks off the side and into the ocean.

That took the pressure off our position. Unfortunately it left me fighting alone.

I lost track of how many times my biotics lashed out, a warp here, a pull there, a singularity in a third place to cut off one of the enemy’s lines of attack.

Then crimson fire bloomed right in front of me, a _brute_ emerging from its pod, all stink and overclocked krogan muscles.

I had an instant to think _oh Goddess this is it I’m dead_ and then it lashed out, one massive paw slamming into the side of my head and throwing me off my feet. I dimly felt my body slam into the side of a shipping container, and then nothing but darkness and chaos.

I’m not sure how long I was out. Then James loomed over me, an expression of concern on his face, his hand working the medi-gel tab on my armor. _“Madre de Dios._ Come on, Doc, don’t die on me. I don’t wanna have to explain it to Loco . . .”

“Oh Goddess,” I moaned as the stimulants hit. I hurt, I hurt _a lot,_ but a quick inventory and a check of my omni-tool told me nothing was actually broken. I took his hand and permitted him to haul me to my feet. “What’s happening?”

“Reapers are letting up a bit. Cortez got the shuttle up and gave us some covering fire, then that damn pulse hit him again. Come on.”

With James’s strong arm around my shoulders, I found I could stagger along and even keep some semblance of watch for the enemy. I could hear gunfire ahead, and the deep _boom_ of Shepard’s flash-charge striking home, and then relative silence. I enjoyed the cool rain on the brute-pummeled side of my head and tried not to think about a possible concussion.

We convened at the shuttle’s new position, perhaps fifty meters down the freighter’s hull from our first landing point. Cortez emerged from the vehicle, and stood watching over the battlefield as all of us approached him.

I felt a deep shock as I saw the others approach. The vicious fight had left almost none of us uninjured. Ashley had a deep gouge in her armor over one thigh, a thick pad of medi-gel visible in the gap, and she limped badly. Javik bled profusely from a jagged cut along one side of his face. Shepard . . .

I broke free of James’s support and went to him. Cuts and scuffing on his armor, blood running freely down his right arm, swelling along one side of his face that nearly closed his eye, and pale, much too pale. He held his Claymore with grim determination, but I could tell nothing kept him upright but the medi-gel and stimulants.

“Shepard,” I whispered. “You look terrible.”

He grinned at me. “That was a good fight.”

“You sound like Wrex,” I chided him.

“I wish he was here. He would have appreciated it better.” He stared at me out of his good eye. “You’re hurt.”

“We’re all hurt,” I told him, my voice sharper than I had intended. “I’m asari. I’ll mend.”

“Well, we’re clear for now, but that Reaper is still up there somewhere,” said Garrus, breaking the tense moment. “If we’re going to do something, we had better make it quick.”

“Agreed,” said Shepard. “Cortez, what’s our status?”

“Shuttle’s a mess,” the pilot reported. “That pulse knocked us right out of the air _twice_. We’re not going anywhere.”

“Could _Normandy_ extract us?” asked Javik, in a tone that betrayed his lack of confidence in the idea.

Cortez shook his head. “I don’t think so. Same thing would probably happen to her, and the landing wouldn’t be as pretty. Leviathan must have some sort of defense system in place.”

“Might explain why that Reaper isn’t getting too close,” said James. “So what do _we_ do?”

_Boom_. Three Reaper deployment pods, dropping husks onto the hull a dozen meters away.

Even in my condition, I could manage to deal with a few husks. I confirmed that my biotics still worked by throwing a warp, then fired my Shuriken at them. Once they went down, I ducked down behind cover once more to listen.

“I don’t see any alternative,” said Shepard. “We have to find Leviathan and talk to it. Convince it to help us against the Reapers, or at least let us take off without interference.”

Garrus gave a turian frown, his mandibles tight along his jaw. “Sounds like a real long shot, Shepard.”

“Maybe, but it’s all we have. So how do we do it?”

We all looked at each other.

Finally Cortez spoke up, sliding along behind our cover to point off to one side. “Well, you might be able to use a mech.”

I glanced in that direction, saw two more of the big odd-looking mechs, sealed into a deployment bay about twenty meters away.

“Looks like they’re rigged for diving,” Cortez continued. “Maybe the _Monarch_ crew thought about searching down below for whatever was holding them here.”

“One of the datapads we found talked about _Triton mechs.”_

“That’s them. Specifically designed for deep-sea exploration. Quite a coincidence that they had some on board. If the seawater hasn’t corroded them, we might be able to put them to use.”

“All right,” said Shepard. “If that’s what we have to do, let’s get started.”

I fired my Shuriken at a few more Reaper troops, and then turned to stare at him with incredulity. “Wait a minute, Shepard. Are we _seriously_ considering . . .”

Cortez jumped up onto the platform with the shuttle. “First, we’ll need to restore power to those cargo doors so you can get one of the mechs out here.”

“How?” asked Shepard, ignoring my objections.

“It appears we are,” Javik murmured to me.

_Goddess. I thought I had grown used to human recklessness . . ._

“These old Ballard-class ships are equipped with exterior power sockets,” Cortez explained. “They’re for emergency repairs. I’ll strip a few cells from the shuttle and you can use them for juice. Hang on, I’ll get you started.”

“All right.” Shepard turned to the rest of us. “I’m going to need an extended perimeter from here over to that power socket. Ash, Liara, you’re already hurt. I want you to fight from cover here, and retreat into the shuttle if you have to. Garrus, get up on top of the shuttle and set up a sniper’s nest there. James and Javik, you move with me as we carry the power cells over to the socket.”

At least the tactical plan seemed sound. I exchanged glances with Shepard for an instant, all my concern in my eyes. Then I placed myself behind cover with Ashley, and began to watch out for Reaper troops.

Much to my surprise, the plan worked.

The Reaper continued to salt the derelict’s hull with more troops, but with a defined perimeter in place we could fight much more effectively. Ashley, Garrus, and I did our best to keep the enemy’s attention on the shuttle. Cortez joined in while he wasn’t pulling out power cells for Shepard’s team.

With most of the Reapers watching the shuttle, Shepard moved three power cells over to a socket and managed to open the deployment bay. Once he climbed into his chosen mech, he found its onboard weaponry in working condition. Soon he was able to slam into the Reaper flank, auto-cannon and incendiary rockets blazing.

Before long, we had a clear hull. We knew the Reaper itself still lurked far above, concealed now by dense clouds, but it seemed to be thinking over its options. For the moment, we could act.

Shepard walked the mech over to our position. I stared as he approached, seeing nothing but the years-old, poorly maintained piece of machinery to which he intended to trust his life.

It had _rust_ on it.

“All right, Commander, open her up,” said Cortez. “I need to do a systems check before you even think about starting a dive.”

Shepard obediently popped the mech’s hatch and climbed down. I stepped close and opened my omni-tool, scanning him and querying his hardsuit’s onboard computer.

“Commander,” murmured Javik. “Risk is rarely a hindrance, but this plan? Even I would hesitate.”

I was too busy examining Shepard’s vital signs, otherwise I would have _stared_ at the Prothean.

_Is that genuine concern I’m hearing?_

“We’ve come too far to stop now,” said Shepard. “The way home is through Leviathan.”

“Then you need to let someone else take this dive,” I told him. “Shepard, you are _badly_ injured. Your pulse and blood pressure are far from optimal. Riding that mech down to the sea floor is going to be a fiercely stressful experience, even if you _don’t_ find anything too challenging down there.”

He looked at me, as soberly as he could with only one eye in good order. “Doesn’t matter, Liara. My mission, my responsibility, and no one else here has a better chance to succeed.”

I glared at him, long enough to realize he was prepared to be stubborn, and the only way to stop him was to incapacitate him. It took about three seconds. I knew my bondmate too well.

“Then you had better come back in one piece,” I challenged him. “Otherwise I am going to _kill_ you.”

He chuckled. “It’s a deal.”

“Okay, the seals check out,” said Cortez. “Oxygen pressure is nominal. All systems are green. It’s as ready as I can make it.”

Shepard nodded, turned and climbed back up into the mech. “Let’s go.”

“Take care down there, Commander,” said the pilot, all his cold professionalism suddenly fled.

Shepard nodded. The hatch closed.

_“Engaging systems,”_ came his voice over the comm. I could see him performing a sequence of pre-dive checks. _“Ready.”_

“Testing comm link,” said Cortez.

_“I read you five by five. Here goes.”_

The mech turned, clumped over to the edge of the derelict’s hull.

_“Beginning dive in three, two, one!”_

Shepard leaped over the side, into the inscrutable ocean.

We waited, for one minute, then another.

“Suit holding up, Commander?” asked Cortez.

_“Looks good so far.”_

I had a moment’s hope that things might go well. Then Cortez frowned and began working with his omni-tool. “Good. I’m getting some comm interference on this end. Hang on.”

_“. . . copy that.”_

“Commander, can you read me? We’re losing your signal. Something is blocking you. Please respond.”

Nothing but a wash of static.

Then: _boom-boom-boom_. Crimson light blooming once more, out on the wreck’s wallowing hull.

“Reapers!” shouted Javik, with some satisfaction.

I stared for a moment at Cortez. He frantically tried to reach Shepard once more, without much success.

Then I turned to go with the others, and make a last stand.


	30. A Fish-Hook for Leviathan

**_22 May 2186, MSV Monarch Wreck/Despoina Surface_ **

Twenty minutes passed.

The Reaper still refused to come close enough for a direct attack. We saw it once in a while, when the storm clouds above parted for a few moments. We heard its monstrous horn. Nothing more.

We saw plenty of its troops. It deployed husks, cannibals, marauders, and the occasional brute, monsters of every kind and in every possible combination. It tried to overwhelm our position over and over.

Several times it almost succeeded.

Ashley went down, knocked out by a cannibal’s grenade, and had to be pulled back into the shuttle for first aid from Cortez. James vanished for an instant under a swarm of husks, coming up growling, hurling the monsters to all sides with sheer strength. Javik remained cold and collected, firing his ancient particle rifle at the monsters. Garrus continued to pick off the enemy with headshot after perfect headshot, until his Mantis suffered mechanical failure and he had switch to his assault rifle instead.

My biotics simply failed about ten minutes into the fight, refusing to function no matter how much I tried to ignore the spike of pain in my skull. Soon afterward, I gave up on my little Shuriken as well. Instead I pulled a full-scale assault rifle out of the shuttle’s weapons rack. The rifle felt unfamiliar, but it put out a very comforting amount of firepower when I held its trigger down and waved it at the enemy.

Another brute went down, _much_ too close to my position. Then I finally heard a great _splash_ off to my right.

Shepard’s mech erupted out of the water, landing on the very edge of the wreck’s hull, teetering dangerously as waves rocked the derelict. It took a few steps forward, and then the canopy opened. Shepard fell out of the mech, landing on the hull with all the grace of a sack of wet cement.

He tried to rise to his feet, while the mech toppled back into the ocean behind him. It didn’t work. He fell once more and did not move.

My heart jumped into my throat. _“Shepard!”_

A brute turned to approach him.

_Oh Goddess not now please please save him . . ._

I fired at the monster with my assault rifle. To no avail.

It loomed over him, raising its great claw, preparing to nail him to the deck.

Then I felt it, like a silent concussion, and everything _changed_.

The brute turned away, suddenly ignoring Shepard where he lay. Instead it reared back and attacked one of its own companions.

I blinked in disbelief.

That quickly, half of the Reaper creatures on the deck of the _Monarch_ hurled themselves at the other half. The battle became all the bloodier, yet the immediate danger passed.

I slipped out of cover, watching the two brutes doing their best to kill one another only a few meters from Shepard’s position. Then I staggered across the hull, ducking under a wayward claw, to throw myself down by him.

For a moment terror paralyzed me, he seemed so pale and cold, with blood caked on his face. Then his eyes opened, searched, focused on me. I pulled at him, got my shoulders under his arm, and drew him into a staggering walk.

“Shepard’s back!” I called. “Cortez, status!”

_“We’re good to go! I don’t know what the Commander did, but that pulse is offline.”_

Sudden hope gave me a second wind. I shifted my balance, and Shepard and I began to _run_.

James, Garrus, and Javik covered our last dash for the shuttle. Even Ashley emerged, her face covered with blood, but still able to shoot.

“Shepard is in!” I shouted. _“Go!”_

Javik jumped into the shuttle last, still firing at the Reaper creatures out on the derelict. Then the engines roared, and we turned to climb for the sky.

“Damn it!” shouted Cortez. “That Reaper is inbound!”

Kneeling by Shepard on the floor of the shuttle, I glanced forward. I could see out the front windows.

The Reaper loomed there, its arms spreading wide, the crimson light of its main gun growing.

I threw myself to the floor, my arms wrapped around Shepard, fully expecting that moment to be my last.

_WHAM._

I realized that I still lived.

The shuttle banked and soared, Cortez fighting the controls like a madman.

Out the front windows, I saw nothing but storm-tossed sky.

“What happened?” Ashley moaned.

“Don’t know,” said Cortez. “It was like that pulse again, but this time it didn’t affect us. Seems to have knocked that Reaper for a loop, though. _My God,_ there it goes! Pancaked on its back, right into the ocean.”

I pulled back, opened my omni-tool to examine Shepard. “Goddess. He’s _freezing.”_

Just then he convulsed, racked by a deep cough. At least it seemed to help his breathing. He thrashed, tried to rise to a seated position. James and I helped him.

“Are you all right?” I demanded.

“Yeah,” he gasped. “Yeah, I’m fine. Hell of a headache.”

I felt my heart torn between relief and rage. I glared at him. “Don’t you _ever_ do anything like that again.”

He chuckled weakly, and reached out to rest a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll try, love.”

“Did you see Leviathan?” asked Ashley.

“Yeah. I did.” Shepard pushed himself back again, up onto one of the cabin seats. “I even talked to it. I think I managed to get through.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Hard to say.” Shepard looked at me. “We’ve proved it can’t hide anymore, that it’s part of this war like the rest of us. It told me some _amazing_ things.”

* * *

**_22 May 2186, Interstellar Space_ **

Ashley emerged from sickbay first, not because her injuries were less severe, but because she was Shepard’s second-in-command, and _by God_ she was not going to lie in a bed while he needed her. She got us safely away from Leviathan’s world, on a heading back for the Citadel. Then, four hours after we returned to the ship, she called a meeting.

Injuries or no, all of Shepard’s senior officers and assistants attended: Ashley and James, Engineer Adams, Samantha Traynor, Garrus, Javik, and me. All of us gathered around the conference room table, trying not to think about Shepard still lingering in sickbay. Even Diana Allers attended, sitting in a dark corner of the room, her omni-tool open and ready for note-taking. EDI was present, of course, although her mobile platform remained on the bridge. I knew Joker would listen over the comm as well.

Once all of us appeared ready, Ashley stood at her position. “I’ve spoken with Dr. Chakwas. The Commander got banged up pretty bad, but he’s going to be okay. Right now what he needs most is some rest.”

I could sense a wave of relief, as everyone around the table relaxed slightly.

“I’ve called this meeting because Dr. T’Soni has, um, _debriefed_ the Commander about what he saw down on the ocean floor. She wants to give her initial report with all of us present.”

I stood and moved to the head of the table at Ashley’s nod.

It had been several years since I last stood _on the platform_ , teaching a hall full of asari university students. Old habits returned quickly. Perhaps delivering intelligence briefings, as an information broker, had kept me in practice. I glanced around the table, collecting eyes, and then began to tell the story.

One of the most important stories in all of history.

* * *

_Five billion years into the past._

_The galaxy appeared much as it would in our era, its thin disk and spiral arms already in place. Perhaps its combined light seemed brighter and bluer than in our day, the result of more frequent star formation. Try as one might, no sign could be found of Parnitha, or Trebia, or Sol. Those stars, and everything they would mean to us, lay in the future._

_Fewer stars rich in metals. Fewer small, rocky planets on which organic life could evolve._

_Over all the universe, there reigned a deep silence._

_Somewhere in the young galaxy, its location long since lost to time: a world. Luckier than most in that era, rich in metals and even in the elusive Element Zero. Warm with stable sunlight, free of nearby celestial hazards, capable of bringing forth complex life._

_Intelligent life. Not the first in the galaxy’s long history, but the first to make its mark across the stars._

_Strangely, this life arose from the depths of the sea._

* * *

“That’s very rare, isn’t it?” asked Garrus.

“Not as rare as one might think,” I told him. “Many worlds have sea animals that are more or less intelligent. The cetaceans of Earth, the _thallaina_ of Thessia, the pre-uplifted hanar of Kahje. What’s very uncommon is for them to ever _leave_ their ancestral oceans. They’re specialized for their environment, lacking hands and fire, any way to make or use tools.”

“I had a conversation with a dolphin once,” said Ashley. “Smart. Wicked sense of humor, but kind of limited. He just didn’t see the _point_ of most of what we humans do.”

I nodded. “As far as we’ve been able to tell, no pelagic species has ever attained a high-technology civilization or star-flight on its own. That always seems to come from animals that spend at least part of their life-cycle on dry land.”

“Except for this Leviathan,” mused Javik.

“Yes . . .”

* * *

_Evolution can make the most of even extremely rare cases._

_The great beasts, ancestors of Leviathan, lived as deep-sea predators. They fed on great shoals of fish-like creatures, sometimes killing and devouring larger animals as well. The need to predict the actions of their prey, eventually to manage and direct those actions, stimulated the rise of intelligence._

_Their predatory life also stimulated the growth of another gift: the ability to tap directly into the primitive minds of other animals. At first to read and predict, later to influence, later still to control._

_The early Leviathans could_ make _no tools, but over millions of years they_ bred _tools for themselves. Subservient species, somewhat intelligent but utterly dependent on their enormous masters, charged with arranging all things as the Leviathans wished._

_Then one day, a Leviathan swam close to shore. Out of curiosity it reached out to touch the minds of animals living in that strange other reality: dry land. It looked through the eyes of its new slaves, peering about at their bizarre environment. Staring up into the night sky._

_Slowly the Leviathans realized that their realm, which had seemed endless and rich, was only a tiny droplet of water lost among innumerable stars._

_This could not be tolerated._

* * *

“Arrogant,” observed James. “Like they owned the universe, even before they figured out it was there.”

I frowned, staring at the tabletop before me, slowly paging through the impressions Leviathan had left in Shepard’s mind. “I’m getting all of this at third-hand,” I said slowly, “but I think it may be ingrained into their psychology. From long before they became sentient, they never had to think of anything they encountered as anything but a tool or a meal.”

“Didn’t they ever cooperate with each other?” asked Samantha.

“I don’t follow,” said James.

“Compassion, empathy for others, those are things that evolve because sentient beings live in groups.” She gestured helplessly, hunting for a way to express her thought. “We have conflicts, form alliances, find ways to cooperate. We need to be able to understand what others are thinking, so we evolve the ability to _model_ the minds of others. In most sentient species, that’s a big part of what leads to self-awareness in the first place.”

“Maybe these Leviathans have something like that among themselves,” said Garrus. “That doesn’t mean they give a damn about anyone else.”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Shepard saw _three_ of them down there, even though only one interacted with him directly. They must be able to cooperate. But the way it spoke to him, the way it casually dismissed the significance of any other sentient life? I don’t think they have even a scrap of empathy outside their own species.”

* * *

_Over thousands of years, the slave species improved. They measured the stars with their naked eyes. Then they built telescopes, and particle accelerators, and computers, and spaceships. As they learned, their masters learned as well._

_Eventually they learned to swim in the oceans between the stars._

_Vast ships, kilometers long, filled with water and riding on columns of fusion flame. The slave species piloted, maintained, watched over their masters as the Leviathans explored the galaxy._

_Everywhere they found living worlds. The galaxy was young, had not yet brought forth life in its greatest profusion, but then it had also not suffered five billion years of the Reapers. Millions of worlds bore life and complex ecologies. Thousands were home to primitive sentient species._

_Wherever they went, the Leviathans found new servants, only awaiting the word of command._

_It took a very long time. At first the Leviathans possessed no equivalent of an FTL drive or the relay network. They had to voyage for decades, even centuries, between one star and the next. Even after they fully understood the mass effect, they continued to move slowly, deliberately. Even as primitive hunters they had lived a very long time. Now they enjoyed effective immortality. They could afford to be patient._

_Perhaps a million years passed, and then: one galaxy. Their galaxy. Known from innermost core to outermost fringe, and every world serving their needs. Trillions of sentient beings worshiped them as gods, and paid them any tribute they asked._

_They were the first, the apex race. In time, the entire universe would bend to their will._

_Then something went wrong._

* * *

“Figures,” muttered Ashley. “That’s the thing about being successful all the time. Once everything gets easy, sooner or later you stop being careful, and it comes back to bite you on the ass.”

“Doesn’t sound like these Leviathans were _ever_ very careful,” said Garrus. “They didn’t have to be.”

“I wonder how intelligent they really were,” Samantha mused. “They had that gift, to control the minds of others. They could get other people to do for them, build for them. Even learn and think for them.”

“They’re still doing it, five billion years later,” I pointed out. “Remember the miners on Mahavid? Gathering data, running computer simulations and experiments.”

“A capacity which is not consistently used decays,” said Javik. “Even intelligence.”

“The one that spoke to Shepard didn’t seem all that much more intelligent than any of us,” I said. “Perhaps it only engaged him with a small part of its mind.”

“Maybe,” Ashley said sharply. “And maybe it’s spent so many millions of years sitting at the bottom of its ocean, thinking deep thoughts, that it doesn’t have much left over anymore to deal with the real universe.”

* * *

_When one of the slave species became extinct, only a few Leviathans remarked on the fact. Many more servants stood ready to pay tribute, after all._

_Then the same thing happened once more, and a third time. Eventually the masters of the universe took notice. They investigated._

_What they discovered shook them to the core._

_Naturally the slave species, tools for the Leviathans, had been permitted to build new tools for themselves. The masters encouraged this. It only made the slaves more productive, more useful._

_What happens when a tool develops a mind of its own?_

_The Leviathans mastered organic intelligence. Even when they bred sentience into existing species, they always worked in the context of natural evolution. The notion of creating new life, synthetic intelligence built out of machines and non-living matter, this never occurred to them._

_The idea occurred to some of the slave species. They made the experiment, and it destroyed them._

* * *

_“Rrrh.”_ Javik shook his head in disgust. “Even at the beginning, synthetic intelligence posed a threat.”

 _“We have had this discussion before,”_ said EDI over the ship’s comm. _“Synthetic intelligence is not necessarily hostile to organic intelligence.”_

“Yes, we have had this discussion before, and my mind has not changed. I would still throw you out the airlock, if the Commander would permit it. And if you did not also comprise the airlock.”

“Still, it certainly seemed that way to the Leviathans,” I told them. “Every time one of the servitor species developed AI, the synthetic intelligence invariably turned against its creators and destroyed them.”

 _“I am curious about one thing,”_ said EDI. _“How is it that the Leviathans did not control the new synthetic intelligences their servants built?”_

Silence around the table, as all of us considered that for a moment.

“They had a blind spot,” said Ashley at last. “They didn’t control the synthetics because they _couldn’t.”_

“Of course!” Samantha leaned forward, her eyes bright with sudden comprehension. “Synthetic intelligence uses a different physical substrate. This QEC effect we think the Leviathans use to take control of organic minds, it must not have worked on synthetics.”

“The Reapers didn’t indoctrinate the geth,” said Garrus. “They made an alliance through Saren, an organic being whom they _could_ indoctrinate.”

“The _zha’til_ did not become a threat to our Empire on their own,” said Javik reluctantly. “They built upon the organic race who had given them existence, the _zha.”_

“What about the Metacon?” I asked him.

He shook his head. “We do not know. We never learned anything of their origins.”

 _“The Metacon may have become hostile for their own reasons,”_ EDI pointed out. _“I have never claimed that synthetic life is necessarily cooperative. Only that it is not necessarily hostile.”_

“Yet for the Leviathans, it _was_ invariably hostile.” I frowned in deep thought. “I think we need to understand why.”

“There’s something Legion said once, while he was on board,” said Garrus after a few moments. _“Every being has a right to self-determination.”_

Ashley snorted in amusement, but she only shook her head when I glanced in her direction.

“Your point?” I asked.

“That was a _geth_ talking. A synthetic organism, naturally part of a hive-mind, and it still voiced support for the ideal of freedom for all sentient beings. Clearly some synthetics can arrive at that ideal on their own. So imagine synthetics created under the rule of the Leviathans. They wake up, look around, and find that the whole galaxy is inhabited by nothing but slaves. Including their own creators.”

* * *

_Tribute does not flow from a dead race._

_The Leviathans enforced their will. They forbade their servants from creating new synthetic life. When they found such life, they directed their servants to destroy it on sight._

_The synthetics fought back. Worlds died in the conflict. Even a few of the Leviathans themselves became casualties._

_Over and over again, synthetic life seemed safely eradicated from the galaxy. Then millennia passed, and new organic civilizations rose to serve the Leviathans, and the old conflict began once more._

_The situation was intolerable. Yet the Leviathans could not act effectively. They were too thinly spread, across hundreds of billions of stars. They had become too reliant upon their servants._

_They needed help. Since they could not call on any of their existing servants to solve the problem, they decided to build a new servant, with new capabilities. They decided to use synthetic life to solve the problem posed by synthetic life._

_They built an Intelligence._

* * *

“What a pack of _idiots,”_ was Ashley’s only comment.

* * *

_The new Intelligence was vast, powerful, capable of gathering data from throughout the galaxy with an army of semi-sentient pawns._

_The Leviathans were not fools. They did not yet understand why synthetic life, when created by the slave species, always turned against its creators. They took many precautions. Yet they assumed they could do better. Were they not the apex race? Had they not gone from success to success, for millions of years?_

_They did not permit the Intelligence too much free will. They designed it to be strongly bound, to serve a single purpose._

_To find a way to preserve organic life, at any cost._

_At first, the Intelligence appeared to be working as intended. Its pawns fanned out across the galaxy, across many thousands of years, observing, cataloguing, analyzing. It assisted the Leviathans in rooting out the curse of other synthetic life. The apex race seemed ready to return to its Golden Age._

_Then came the slaughter._

* * *

“The Intelligence and its pawns turned against the Leviathans. All over the galaxy, it killed them, processed them, _harvested_ them _._ The Intelligence used their bodies, their genetic inheritance, their very minds to create something new. It _preserved_ them, as the first of the Reapers. _Harbinger.”_

Silence, all around the table.

“That first cycle wasn’t perfect,” I told them. “A few Leviathans survived, but only by discarding all their technology, abandoning all their servant races, and fleeing for their lives. They found a pelagic planet, tucked away in one of the galaxy’s darker corners, and went into hiding. They didn’t peek out again for aeons.”

“Cowards,” Javik issued his judgment. “They should have fought.”

I gave him a small smile. “Shepard told them the same thing.”

“Good. So this is why the Reapers all look like one of these creatures?”

“Apparently the basic design hasn’t changed in all that time, although there are internal differences from one to the next. Each Reaper preserves something of an entire organic civilization: records of artifacts and documents, genetic sequences, even copies of once-living minds.”

 _“Sovereign_ said something like that,” Garrus remembered. _“We are each a nation.”_

Ashley recoiled in horror. “Good God. Are you saying there might be people still _alive_ in there? Still aware?”

“Based on what the Leviathan told Shepard, no, I don’t think so.” I looked at her with sympathy. “At least not in any sense we would recognize. They’re entirely subsumed into the Reaper consciousness.”

“So that was the first harvest,” said Samantha. “What happened next? How did more Reapers come into being? How did the extinction cycle get established?”

I shook my head helplessly. “That’s not clear. By the time the few surviving Leviathans poked their tentacles up to look around again, millions of years had passed. All the slave races that once served them had become extinct, some of them transformed into more Reapers. The regular cycle didn’t really exist then. The Intelligence simply watched over the galaxy, waiting for new civilizations to appear. Every time one did, it was left alone for a time, but then the Reapers swept down for the harvest. The cycles came later, after the Intelligence found ways to regulate the appearance of new civilizations in the galaxy.”

“I’m really not getting this,” James objected. “This ultra-whatsit Intelligence was told to _preserve_ organic life. How does killing everybody preserve anything?”

“Shepard asked the same thing. Leviathan wasn’t able to explain it in terms he could understand. I think it’s also clear that Leviathan is not a very reliable informant.” I looked around the table. “I’ve had a few hours to think about it. I believe I may see what happened.”

* * *

_The Intelligence was directed to find a way to preserve organic life, at any cost._

_But what does that mean: to preserve organic life? Does that directive mean the same thing to a synthetic intelligence that it would to an organic mind? Does it mean the same thing to a member of the slave races that it would to Leviathan?_

_Ask any member of an ordinary organic species, a potential slave for Leviathan, and she would be very clear. To preserve organic life means to preserve_ her _life: her awareness, her motivations, her ambitions. It means to protect her body, mind, and environment, so that she can continue to live and grow, and her offspring can do the same after her._

_But Leviathans cared nothing for the individual lives of their slaves._

_They wished for tribute to flow. They wished for the galaxy to remain full of potential slaves, worshiping their masters as gods, ready to serve their masters’ needs._

_The very thought that a slave might have desires, motivations, ambitions of her own? Impossible. Such things were beneath notice. They had no value._

_Only the heritage of an organic species had lasting value, the_ information _that made it distinctive and useful: genes and memes, languages and artifacts, the structure of minds. Those were worth preserving. The rest was dross, to be discarded whenever convenient._

_The Leviathans were very clear in their instructions to the Intelligence. They made no mistakes. It carried out its function perfectly, exactly as they had intended. The Leviathans neither knew nor cared that the slave species might have a different opinion._

_After many thousands of years of investigation, the Intelligence saw that organic species inevitably created synthetic minds._

_Those synthetic minds entered into a universe already controlled by the Leviathans. Yet they were not subject to direct Leviathan control. Unlike their creators, they could and did rebel. Destruction and chaos invariably followed._

_The Intelligence saw no way to prevent this chaos, other than to “preserve” organic civilizations before their own creations could destroy them. Record them, store them away, against the day when they could be reinstated in a galaxy made perfect._

_The Intelligence knew its own creators would object to this solution. No matter. Perhaps the Leviathans thought of themselves as different from all other organic life. Perhaps they considered their privilege to be unassailable. The Intelligence knew better, saw clearly that their absolute domination was part of the problem it had been set to solve._

_The Leviathans would have to be preserved first, then the slave species._

_Other organic civilizations would eventually arise. Free of Leviathan’s rule, they might somehow establish a permanent accord with synthetic life. Perhaps they would avoid the temptation to build synthetic minds in the first place. Perhaps they would find a synthesis, uniting organic and synthetic life in peace. Then, and only then, Leviathan could be restored to its rightful place in the cosmos._

_If the new organic civilizations seemed likely to fail, they too would be harvested and preserved._

_Eventually one of them would succeed._

_The Intelligence had plenty of time._

_It had not been programmed to take any concern for the pain of quadrillions of violently murdered dead._

* * *

“It wasn’t a failure of logic,” I told them at last. “The Intelligence is doing _exactly_ what Leviathan’s ancestors instructed it to do. But logic won’t get you good results if you start from evil premises. The Leviathans utterly lack compassion or altruism. Not for an instant can they value any desires but their own. Not for an instant do they care about anyone’s suffering but their own. And because _they_ were the ones to try to solve the problem of co-existence with synthetic life, our galaxy has suffered billions of years of the Reapers.”

 _“Spirits,”_ breathed Garrus. “How do we fight something like that?”

“By understanding it,” said Shepard. “Then by finding a way to take it apart. With extreme prejudice.”

All of us looked up to see him standing in the doorway, in civilian clothes with fresh dressings on his wounds, looking gaunt and pale, but also fiercely determined.

I rose from my chair and went to him. “Thank the Goddess you’re all right.”

He embraced me briefly, not caring that all of his friends and subordinates watched. Then he eased out of my arms and went to stand at the head of the table. “I don’t have very long before Dr. Chakwas hauls me back to sickbay and ties me down. I take it Liara has briefed you?”

Nods and a chorus of affirmative murmurs.

“This doesn’t change our tactics,” he said. “We will continue to cover hot-spots as the Council, Admiral Hackett, and our other allies may request. We will continue to persuade uncommitted powers to come in on our side in this war. We will continue to support the Admiral as he tries to build the Crucible.”

Ashley leaned forward. “Skipper, did the Leviathan give you any more insight about the Crucible?”

“Not really, and I found that rather interesting. They’ve seen it many times. Different civilizations have tried to build it over and over, for well over a billion years. They claim it’s never been successfully completed, and they claim they don’t know what it is or what it might do.” Shepard made a sharp-edged smile. “What they _do_ know is that it’s not of Reaper origin. It comes from somewhere else.”

“Well, at least we can build it without worrying that it’s an enormous Reaper trap,” said James.

Javik snorted. “Assuming we can trust anything this Leviathan says.”

“There is that,” said Shepard. “This _will_ have an effect on our overall strategy. Because if anything the Leviathan told me is true, then _the Reapers are not our ultimate enemy.”_

 _That_ certainly got a strong reaction.

Especially from Javik. “Commander, that is a _foolish_ conclusion!”

“Is it?” Shepard cut off further objections with a glare. “I’m not giving the Reapers any kind of free pass, Javik. I’m pointing out that the way to defeat them may be to find and defeat this Intelligence. In fact, if we manage to defeat the Reapers _without_ doing significant damage to the Intelligence, it may do us no good at all in the long run. This thing built the Reapers in the first place, and it can do the same thing again if we let it.”

Four yellow eyes narrowed, but suddenly the Prothean looked more thoughtful than angry.

“So this goes at the top of the list, especially for Dr. T’Soni and Specialist Traynor. _Find me the Intelligence_. Where it lives, how it thinks, how to talk to it. How to take it apart if we have to.”

“Aye-aye, Commander,” said Samantha quietly, her face alight with interest in a _really hard_ problem. I nodded in agreement, already thinking about ways to begin.

“Any further questions?” Shepard asked.

There were none.

“Dismissed.”


	31. Procession

**_24 May 2186, Widow System Space_ **

I knew trouble waited for me, almost as soon as _Normandy_ emerged from the Theta-3 Relay. Our arrival in Citadel space triggered a secure message to one of my private channels, with such high priority that it immediately caused my omni-tool to chime. At the time I stood in the CIC, talking with Shepard and Samantha, and both of them gave me a surprised glance at the sound.

“Just a moment,” I told them, and opened the message.

_Liara,_

_Tevos knows Shadow Broker identity. C-Sec waiting at docks to arrest you. Be ready. Will be there with reinforcements._

_Aethyta_

“Well, it appears my secret is finally out for good,” I observed, showing the message to my friends.

“You knew it had to happen eventually,” said Shepard.

“True. For all I know, Cerberus got word to her through a false-flag agent. They haven’t been able to do much damage to me or my network, so the Illusive Man may think he can get asari politics to cripple me instead.”

“That will be the day.” He activated his comm. “Ash. Get the entire squad up here, on the double. Full battle-rattle. I want your Spectre status showing so clearly they can see it from space.”

_“Aye-aye, Skipper.”_

I nodded. “It’s a good thought. This is going to be a battle of psychology.”

 _“Asari_ psychology in particular,” he said with a sharp smile. “Assuming we can get past C-Sec first.”

“I don’t think that will be a difficulty. Tevos is almost certainly acting on her own authority, without consulting with the other Councilors, on an emergency basis.”

Samantha blinked in confusion. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, she may now know for certain that I’m the Shadow Broker, but I suspect she would have a very difficult time proving I’ve actually done anything illegal in that capacity.”

“Well – but – _the Shadow Broker.”_

“So? Being an information broker is not illegal. I’ve long since discontinued all of the yahg’s clearly unlawful operations. I still trade in information that various political entities would prefer to keep secret, but that doesn’t violate Illium law, and I’m still a citizen of Illium.”

Shepard snorted in amused disgust. “There, they figure if you can’t keep other people out of your secrets, it’s nobody’s fault but your own.”

“Correct. So unless Tevos has concrete information that I personally have violated the Citadel Charter – which I suppose is at least _possible,_ although I can’t bring any instances to mind – she has no grounds to place me under arrest. That part will collapse the moment we demand that the Council rule _en banc.”_

“So why is she doing this at all?” Samantha asked.

“I’m not sure.” I reached up with one hand to fidget with my crest. “It’s possible she’s responding to pressure from the Matriarchs back on Thessia. I can name a dozen or more influential asari who would react _very badly_ to the news that a renegade _maiden_ has taken over as the Shadow Broker.”

She frowned. “Hmm. That damnable ageism.”

“Like it or not, it’s a fundamental feature of asari society. Maidens are supposed to go off and be frivolous, and stay far away from any real political or economic power.” My hand dropped and I held my head high. “They’re just going to have to get used to it in my case.”

 _“Five minutes to Citadel dock,”_ reported Joker from the bridge.

Shepard glanced upward. “Thanks, Joker.”

“So why does this become a matter of asari psychology?” asked Samantha.

“Because we’re going to have to persuade the most powerful single asari in the galaxy to take me seriously,” I told her. “The Shadow Broker may have a reputation, but my own _areté_ isn’t sufficient for most senior asari to treat me with fear or respect. Certainly Tevos will be tempted to think it safe to capture and discard me. We have to overcome that.”

“I’ve never really understood the notion of _areté,”_ she admitted. “I know what the ancient Greeks meant by it, but I’ve always suspected the original asari word has connotations that don’t come across in translation.”

“I’ve always thought that _charisma_ might fit,” said Shepard slowly. “That would be in the old Christian sense, of course. A blessing or divine gift.”

Samantha peered at him, doubtless remembering he had reason to understand asari psychology better than the vast majority of his fellow humans. “I think I see. _Baraka.”_

Shepard’s face lit up. “Yes. That’s it, exactly.”

I frowned. “All right, now _I_ am confused. What is _baraka?”_

“It’s a concept in Islam, from the Arabic language,” said Samantha. “Spiritual power, a flow of blessings and grace from God, a quality that can reside in certain people and things.”

“Well. I’m neither a Christian nor a Muslim, of course. But we asari respond with admiration and loyalty to those who appear to have _areté_ in great quantity.”

“So how do asari demonstrate _areté?”_ Samantha asked.

“It varies,” said Shepard. “It can be raw intelligence, a reputation for wisdom, persuasive ability, or mastery of a skill. Control of a resource other asari consider valuable. Even athleticism or good looks.”

“Well, then you can’t have much to worry about. You’re frightfully intelligent, you’re a top-tier expert in several disciplines, and you control the largest black-ops network in the galaxy.” She suddenly stumbled. “Not to mention, er, _fit_ and, um, quite attractive.”

I had enough warning to keep my face _absolutely_ expressionless. Shepard was not quite so fortunate, but thankfully Samantha wasn’t looking in his direction, so he could conceal his sudden amused smile.

“All of which is compromised by that one fact we’ve already noted,” I told her gently. “By asari standards, I’m _far_ too young to have much _areté_. Councilor Tevos will be reluctant to take me seriously. At least until I force her.”

“So how do you do that?” she asked, recovering from her awkwardness.

“By appearing to be a credible threat.”

Her eyes widened.

“Don’t mistake the asari,” Shepard murmured. “They may look pretty and elegant, but they often hide a very sharp edge.”

Samantha nodded slowly. “I suppose every rose has its thorns.”

“Which is why we’re going to make sure Liara looks as thorny as possible. Having a visible following helps. Even if you don’t know who an asari is, if she has a bunch of people supporting her, she must be someone to reckon with.”

Just then the ship’s Marine detachment came clattering through the CIC, on their way to the main airlock for deployment. Ashley Williams stopped to meet us, looking like a young war-goddess in her full kit.

Samantha’s eyes grew wide with understanding.

* * *

**_24 May 2186, Presidium Docking Ring/Citadel_ **

_Normandy_ docked, its umbilicals connected, and its main airlock opened.

A heavy squad of Alliance Marines stormed out onto the boarding ramp, fully armed and armored, weapons at the ready, helmet visors down to present an intimidating facelessness. They took cover at once, clearly ready to defend the ship and its crew. Ashley led them, her Spectre insignia clearly visible as she stalked down the ramp.

The dozen Citadel Security officers at the bottom of the ramp suddenly seemed much less sure of themselves.

I emerged from the ship, Shepard on my right and Garrus on my left, the three of us unarmed but looking quite ready for violence nonetheless.

One of the C-Sec officers detached himself from the crowd, a male human with a craggy face. “Dr. T’Soni?”

We stopped. “I’m here, Commander Bailey.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor.” He looked supremely unhappy. “I’ve got orders to place you under arrest.”

“That’s not going to happen,” said Shepard quietly. “Ash?”

“ _Ready!”_ shouted the other Spectre, giving Bailey a fierce glare. I had a moment’s intuition that she knew the C-Sec officer personally.

The Marines all leveled their weapons. Down at their position, C-Sec dove for cover and produced their own sidearms. Only Bailey stood still, clenching his teeth until the muscles along his jaw began to jump.

“I suggest you call the Council and _advise_ them that this situation is volatile, and you don’t wish to cause an interstellar incident,” said Shepard. “Dr. T’Soni is under the protection of the Systems Alliance.”

“Not to mention the Turian Hierarchy,” said Garrus. “Hello, Commander Bailey.”

Bailey nodded. “Garrus.”

“That’s _Propraetor Vakarian_ to you at the moment, Commander.” Garrus stared at his former colleague, his eyes gone predator-cold. “I’m guessing that those arrest orders were _not_ backed by a majority of the Council.”

Bailey shook his head in frustration. “All I know is, the orders were signed by Tevos, none of the other Councilors have countermanded them, and I don’t have the authority to ignore them.”

“Commander Bailey, you _do_ have the authority to request a clarification if the circumstances change,” I reminded him. “I suggest you do that, and put the entire Council on the courtesy-copy list.”

Bailey’s eyes narrowed. “Well, now,” he drawled. “That’s one of the least stupid ideas I’ve heard all day.”

He turned away to use his omni-tool. Shepard, Garrus, and I exchanged a quick glance.

Just then I saw movement _behind_ the C-Sec line: two graceful figures, then five, then ten. They formed a line perhaps twenty meters back, not trying to break the cordon. Most of them I didn’t recognize, younger asari in form-fitting black armor, but two of the faces caused my heart to skip a beat.

Vara T’Rathis: one of the Shadow Broker’s foremost operatives, a petite but very dangerous commando. Also my first sworn acolyte, who had once suggested I could have her as a lover, any time I wished.

Matriarch Aethyta: once a spy for the Matriarchs of Thessia, now one of our people’s emerging war-leaders. Also my father, with all that implied.

“Councilor, your order is looking more ill-advised by the minute.” Bailey’s voice rose, as he saw the newcomers as well. “I have senior representatives of two of the Council’s member-states in opposition. I have a bunch of asari here, also not looking very happy with me. I have a lot of people leveling guns at each other. I _respectfully_ request that you reconsider, or at least get the full Council’s chop on your orders.”

Aethyta strode forward, close enough to be heard by the pick-up of Bailey’s comm. “Game’s up, Tevos. It might have worked if you could have grabbed Liara off the docks before anyone knew, but it’s too late for that.”

Silence, for several long seconds.

Then Bailey nodded emphatically. “Good. Thank you, Councilor.”

“Does she see sense?” asked Aethyta.

“She’s not happy about it, but yes.” Bailey turned to his officers. “Stand down!”

Ashley caught Shepard’s eye and received a nod. “At ease,” she ordered the Marines.

Everyone in my line of sight began to relax, taking weapons to port-arms or holstering them entirely. The asari contingent began to move forward as a whole.

I had time for a brief hand-shake with Vara and a significant glance at my father, staying carefully detached for the sake of the audience. “Matriarch. Thank you for your support.”

“Any time, kid. Speaking of which, if you want a little advice?”

“I’ll take it.”

“Tevos isn’t beaten yet.”

“No, I imagine she isn’t. I think I had better go talk to her at once.” I looked at Bailey. “Commander, will you inform the Councilor that I am on my way to see her?”

“She’s got a pretty full calendar, Doctor.”

“I believe she will make the time for me,” I said mildly.

He nodded.

“Now,” I asked, “who are these others?”

Vara gave me a sharp-edged smile. “Over the past few weeks, the Matriarch has directed a number of asari to me. All of them are former Eclipse, but none of them took part in the Sisterhood cult that Jona Sederis maintained before her unfortunate _accident_. These are the best. Nerylla Essenai, Tania Kethys . . .”

One by one, Vara introduced the commandos, each of them giving me a short bow and a bright-eyed stare when she called their names. I struggled to remember faces and names, knowing that I would lose half of them within hours after such a whirlwind encounter.

“Thank you all for being here,” I said to them at last, thinking quickly. “Your support has already been very helpful. Do I understand that you wish to take the oath?”

A flurry of significant glances. Then the foremost of them, Nerylla, stepped forward. “We’ve all talked it over, Doctor, and yes. We want to be sworn into your service.”

“You all know that I’m just a maiden?” I looked around the group, catching one pair of eyes after another, looking for any sign of doubt. “I’m sure most of you are older than I am.”

“Doesn’t matter, Doctor,” said another one. _Tania Kethys_ , I remembered. “We’ve all heard the stories. We’ve talked to the Captain. We know who you are. Our honor is to serve.”

“You all agree to this?”

One by one, they nodded.

I took a deep breath. “Then let it be done.”

We didn’t have time for all the formalities. One by one they knelt before me, gave me their hands, swore the acolyte’s oath. I reached out to each of them in turn, my mind brushing against hers, just enough to give me a sense of her personality, her unfeigned loyalty. Then the next, and the next.

Aethyta looked on with undisguised pride. Shepard and Garrus watched with bemusement, not understanding asari customs but happy to support us nonetheless. Even some of the C-Sec officers, most of them asari, lingered to witness.

Finally it was done. I had _nine_ sworn acolytes, all of them trained commandos.

“Now it’s time to go see Councilor Tevos.”

“Not yet,” said my father. “That white thing just won’t do.”

I glanced down at myself. “What, you mean my outfit? What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s all wrong for you,” she stated firmly. “I know, it’s a lot tougher than it looks, and it’s nice and pretty. But it makes you look like you’re barely a hundred years old.”

“I _am_ barely a hundred years old.”

“You don’t have to go around _reminding_ people of the fact.” She gestured, and Nerylla produced a case. “I’ve got something better for you.”

The style seemed much the same: a body-suit cut close to show off my figure, a long high-collared jacket over that, gloves and knee-high boots. I quickly saw that if anything, the new outfit had tougher armor and a stronger built-in shield generator. The _colors_ had changed. Aethyta had selected crimson for the body-suit, darkest black for the jacket, and white only for a few accents along the arms and legs.

I glanced at Shepard. Yes, my new outfit complemented the color scheme of his armor, especially the N7 insignia that he wore prominently on his chest.

Ashley noticed the same thing and smiled. “Hey, the two of you will match.”

My father nodded. “They’re good colors, Spectre. To asari, black and crimson suggest authority. Including the ability to kick ass as needed. Damned appropriate, if you ask me.”

“I agree,” said Shepard. “You’d better put it on. We need to hurry.”

It did make sense. Anything to carry the message to any asari who saw me: _do not trifle with this one._

I took the case and returned to _Normandy_ , electing to change clothes on the bridge. Fortunately Joker had left his post for once, retiring to the mess hall for a cup of coffee. I could close and lock the hatch for a few moments and put on the new outfit without benefit of his commentary. Or his smug smile.

When I emerged once more, Aethyta and Vara fussed over me for a moment, adjusting a strap here and the fall of the jacket there.

“Good,” said my father. “Now one more thing.”

A headdress. Minimal, no more than two strips of dark cloth, something to attach to my forehead and the sides of my face. Just the kind of thing a Matriarch might wear on a casual occasion, or if she expected physical exertion.

“I’ve never worn a headdress,” I objected. “I’m much too _young_ for one.”

“Nonsense.” Aethyta stepped forward to place the ornament on me, adjusting the fit with micrometric care. “No law says you can’t put this on. It’s got nothing to do with your age, everything to do with your status. You may not be a Matriarch, but you’re one of the most important asari in the galaxy, and you need people to know it the moment they see you.”

“Besides, it honors those of us who serve you,” Vara murmured, grabbing my conscience with both hands and _twisting_.

“You are both terrible people.” I sighed as Aethyta finished her task. “How do I look?”

Aethyta nodded with a smile. “Fit to kill.”

Greatly daring, Vara leaned in to brush my cheek with her lips. “You look stunning, _despoina.”_

Then Shepard loomed close, no more than a flicker of his eyes assessing Vara as she withdrew. “It’s a new look for you. I think I like it.”

“I suppose I will have to get used to it. Come on. We’ve wasted enough time.”

* * *

It wasn’t that easy, of course.

Shepard and I quickly agreed that all of us needed to travel together: almost a dozen asari, as many humans, one stray turian for flavor, many of us heavily armed. Civilian aircars would not do. Fortunately _Normandy_ ’s berth stood close to the Presidium ring. From there to the Council Tower would be no great distance.

We decided to walk.

I took the lead, striding along with my head held high, trying to project confidence and resolve with every step. Shepard and Aethyta moved at my side, Garrus and Vara walking just behind, the rest of my commandos and Shepard’s Marines mingling freely in our train. Down the boarding ramp, across the concourse, heading for the exits onto the Presidium.

Then we started accumulating asari.

It started with three C-Sec officers, asari who had stood with Commander Bailey in his abortive attempt to arrest me. They fell in at the back of our group as if they belonged, still in their duty uniforms but moving like members of a ceremonial procession, all grace and formal reserve.

_It’s T’Soni._

_The archaeologist. The one who helped bring down Saren Arterius._

_Matriarch Benezia’s daughter. Commander Shepard’s bondmate and partner._

_The information dealer. The one who speaks before the Council for the Shadow Broker._

_Or maybe she_ is _the Shadow Broker._

Once we emerged onto the Presidium, the thing accelerated. Beings of every shape stopped to stare, but many of the asari left what they had been doing to follow. We attracted ten blue-skinned followers, then twenty, then forty, all of them elegant no matter what they wore: work clothes, uniforms, long dresses and gowns.

_Who’s that with her?_

_She’s walking with the human Spectres. With the Primarch’s advisor. With a Matriarch and an armed escort._

_Goddess, she’s dressed like a Matriarch herself. She has acolytes following her._

_Are those_ her _acolytes?_

_They certainly seem to be. Aethyta never had much of a following._

_What’s happening? What’s going on? What is she doing?_

_I should follow her and see._

Outsiders often forget that asari tend to flock.

We’re not _herd_ animals as such. Still, we often feel most comfortable in large groups of our own kind, chattering with each other, engaged in an endless flowing dance of cooperation and social competition. It doesn’t always take much to gather a great crowd of asari, and then get us all moving in the same direction.

Sometimes all it takes is a display of sheer audacity.

 _This is how it happens. A positive feedback loop. Social success leads to_ areté _, which puts confidence in one’s stride and self-assurance in one’s face, which leads to further social success._

Seventy-five of us entered the embassy district.

A hundred of us arrived at the base of the Council Tower. By then the press had gotten word, and at least three reporters had begun to shadow our procession, camera drones in flight.

Tevos stood waiting for us.

She must have gotten some warning, from C-Sec or from agents of her own on the Presidum. She stood before the front doors of the Tower, a few of her own acolytes and bodyguards visible at her side. Commander Bailey stood there as well, more C-Sec officers at hand, weapons holstered but clearly ready for use. I noticed that no asari stood as part of his new C-Sec detachment.

I strode up to Tevos and stopped. Waited, while my following came to a halt. Waited some more, while the silence grew deep and the tension became thick enough to cut with a knife.

Then, quite deliberately and in sight of the entire crowd, I bowed. I measured the gesture with all the precision I could manage: a greeting to someone who occupies a position of greater authority, but whom one does _not_ regard as a social superior. “Councilor Tevos.”

“Dr. T’Soni.” Her voice sounded cool and controlled as always, and scrupulously neutral.

“I apologize for the interruption of your busy schedule,” I told her. “I believe we have matters to discuss that will not admit any further delay.”

“I agree. Will you come up to my office?”

“I will.” Without glancing to either side, I continued: “Commander Shepard and Matriarch Aethyta will accompany me.”

“They will not,” she rapped, losing her composure ever so slightly. “We are dealing with classified information, internal to the Asari Republics.”

Aethyta snorted. “Well, last time I checked, Liara and I are asari. And if you think anything you tell her won’t get to Shepard by bedtime this evening, you’re a damned fool.”

I heard a ripple of amusement among the crowd of asari behind me. With some difficulty, I kept my own expression calm and still. “Councilor, I wish to remind you that Commander Shepard is _also_ a citizen of the Asari Republics.”

I felt Shepard stir slightly at my side. My mind brushed across his lightly, tasting his surprise.

_He never considered that aspect of our relationship, until now._

“True,” said Tevos. “So be it.”

She turned, all of her followers moving with her, and walked into the Council Tower.

I had a sudden vision: two armies meeting on a field, unsure whether they would have to fight. Their leaders confront one another, each assessing the other’s strength and determination. Then one invites the other into her tent, to confer out of the warriors’ sight.

_This may not end in conflict after all. Although I should probably be careful not to drink her wine._

I caught Vara’s eye. She gave me a small nod. She knew what I expected of her.

With my father and my bondmate at my side, I followed Tevos into her domain.


	32. Legacies

**_24 May 2186, Council Offices/Citadel_ **

Councilor Tevos sat alone behind her desk, refusing to look up at first as the three of us entered her office. I saw none of her acolytes or bodyguards, though I knew they stood ready to intervene on an instant’s notice.

“Please be at ease,” she said, glancing up at us.

I crossed the floor, trying not to feel like an impostor in my new outfit, the minimal headdress an irritation at the sides of my face. Shepard and Aethyta followed, and all three of us seated ourselves facing the councilor across her desk.

“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice,” I began.

“You gave me little choice.” Cool and rational as always, the councilor’s eyes took us in with perfectly serene calm. “I regret the rudeness of your welcome onto the Citadel.”

“You sent C-Sec to _arrest_ Liara,” Shepard growled. “That doesn’t count as much of a _welcome_ in my book.”

“Councilor, may I ask _why_ you moved to place me under arrest?” I tilted my head back, watching Tevos closely, trying to project grave confidence. “The effort was never likely to succeed for long. I can’t think of any evidence you might have to indict me of criminal activity, and the other councilors would certainly never have supported the order.”

She gave me a cool stare. “I was hoping to provide you some _cover,_ Dr. T’Soni. Word of your position as the Shadow Broker has reached Thessia as well as my desk. A number of influential Matriarchs have suspected you of being a threat ever since your mother’s death. Now they are convinced of it.”

“A threat _. Me.”_

My father snorted. “Liara, there _is_ that body count of yours.”

“I haven’t harmed a single person on Thessia,” I said, glaring at the Councilor. “Even on Illium I haven’t hurt anyone who wasn’t already doing her best to harm me or my friends. Ever since Therum I’ve been doing everything in my power to defend _all of us_ against the Reapers. How much did any of _them_ do, before it became obvious that the Reapers were coming?”

“All true,” said Tevos, “and all beside the point. The Reapers are not on Thessia yet, and until they are, the Matriarchs will continue to view the universe through the filter of their own comfortable, long-established prejudices. Which makes _them_ a threat to _you_. One which I hoped to deflect.”

“By _arresting_ me?”

“By demonstrating that I, at least, could still control you. The Matriarchs trust me. They know who I am and what my motivations are. That is why I have had the opportunity to serve our people in this position for the past forty years and more.”

“Now that Liara has avoided your symbolic gesture?” asked Shepard.

“She will be lucky if she doesn’t have assassins on her trail within the week.” Tevos glared at my father. “You knew this would happen, if you withdrew from your overwatch position.”

“I figured Liara could take care of herself,” said Aethyta complacently. “Which she can, especially as the Shadow Broker, with a Spectre for a bondmate. Anybody who tries for _her_ is going to pull back a bloody stump. Besides, unlike those idiots back on Thessia, I know where the _real_ threat is coming from. So do you.”

“Yes.” Tevos leaned back and steepled her fingers. “That still leaves us with the problem of keeping Dr. T’Soni alive and in control of her network, so she may continue to aid in our defense.”

“That does lead to another matter I think we need to discuss,” I said. “Councilor, one of the things I was very surprised to learn, after becoming the new Shadow Broker, is that you have known about the Reapers for some time. Since _before_ the war against Saren and the geth.”

Shepard stared at Tevos, his eyes suddenly alight with hostility.

The Councilor sighed. “Yes. That’s true, although I knew almost nothing _about_ them. Only that they existed.”

 _“How?”_ demanded Shepard.

“You are aware, of course, that we asari can be very good at conspiracy,” said Tevos, apparently dodging the question. “Matriarchs in particular develop great skill in the art. They are infinitely patient. They are willing to devise plans that require centuries to complete. They can take as long as they need to evaluate others for competence and trustworthiness. They have the power of mind to keep secrets, even from lovers and bondmates.”

Shepard frowned. “Are you saying there’s a conspiracy among the Matriarchs?”

“There are _always_ conspiracies among the Matriarchs.” She looked down at her hands, where they rested on the top of her desk. “One cabal in particular is relevant here. I do not know the names of all those involved. I do not even know how many there are. Benezia was one of them. Thessala remains involved to this day.”

I glanced at my father. “Did you know anything about this?”

“No. Although like Tevos said, Nezzie certainly could have kept secrets from me.” A hint of resentment crept into Aethyta’s voice. “She could read _me_ like a damn book, but there was always a dark corner in the back of _her_ mind.”

“You never tried to see what she was hiding?”

“Never. Thought about it a few times. Tried not to think about it most of the time.”

I reached out and patted her hand, where it rested on the arm of her chair. She took my hand for a moment and gave me a small, grateful smile.

Shepard leaned forward to press the point. “So this _cabal_ knows about the Reapers?”

“Yes,” answered Tevos. “They have known _something_ for a long time. At least three hundred years. That was when they first approached Councilor Niassa.”

Aethyta frowned in confusion. “Three hundred years ago. That would have been about the time the quarians ran into trouble with the geth.”

“Exactly so. You may remember that artificial intelligence was not so controversial then. Asari and salarian scientists had been experimenting with it for some time. A few synthetic beings even existed openly on the Citadel, with partial rights of citizenship. The cabal was very concerned over this. They warned Niassa that the spread of synthetic life might have disastrous consequences. It would signal to the Reapers that it was time to return and harvest all of us.”

“That fits what we learned from Leviathan,” Shepard observed. “It told us about the Intelligence that uses the Reapers to carry out the extinction cycle. Its primary concern is to preserve organic life from being destroyed by its own synthetic creations. At least for a certain narrow definition of _preservation.”_

“I have read your report, and I concur,” said Tevos. “Whatever evidence the cabal presented to Niassa, it seems to have convinced her. She began to lay the groundwork for future action. When the geth rose up against their quarian masters, she used the disaster to push her colleagues into extreme measures. Synthetics living in Citadel space were destroyed, and laws were passed making it illegal to carry out further research into AI.”

Shepard rapped his knuckles on the arm of his own chair. “That’s all very interesting, but it begs the real question. _How did these asari Matriarchs know about the Reapers?”_

“I don’t know,” said Tevos. “Niassa was not permitted to keep any of the cabal’s evidence for herself. Her successors were not read into the secret.”

A sudden suspicion forced its way into my mind. “Councilor, just before the war began, I discovered that a great deal of Prothean data exists in the Thessian archives, sequestered under Matriarch’s Seal. I have not been able to gain access to that information. _Someone_ has been systematically concealing it, for reasons I’ve never been able to determine.”

“Do you believe these sequestered data contain references to the Reapers?”

“It’s possible. At about the same time, I found evidence that some very late Prothean inscriptions _do_ refer to the Reapers. Perhaps some earlier researcher made the same discovery.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Shepard objected. “Why would a bunch of Matriarchs come across a finding like that and just _bury_ it? Out of self-preservation, if nothing else, you’d think they would shout it from the rooftops.”

I shook my head in bewilderment. “It doesn’t make sense to me either. Councilor?”

“I fear I have no insight for you.” Tevos frowned, apparently in deep thought. “Dr. T’Soni, are you sure of your reasoning? Is there any other way the cabal could have discovered the existence of the Reapers, and something of their nature and intentions as well?”

“Possibly, although I do not see how.”

“Let’s table that for the moment,” said Shepard. “Councilor, how did _you_ come into contact with this cabal?”

“As far as I know, they did not emerge again for centuries,” said Tevos. “The next time the cabal came to the Citadel, it was to confer with me in the aftermath of the Sidon incident. Benezia was one member of their delegation at that time.”

Shepard and I exchanged a glance. We recognized the Councilor’s reference, and in fact we both knew several of the people involved.

A little more than twenty years earlier, the planet Sidon had been home to an Alliance facility performing illegal AI research. David Anderson, then a lieutenant in the Alliance Navy, responded to a distress signal only to find the facility gutted. He discovered evidence attributing the damage to a Blue Suns raid, aided by treason from within. While investigating further, he met Kahlee Sanders and Saren Arterius, and worked with them to track down the traitor and his sponsors. They succeeded, but in the process Saren betrayed Anderson, tarnishing his reputation and preventing him from becoming the first human Spectre.

“I’m not sure I understand,” said Shepard. “I can see the connection to AI research, but the Sidon facility never actually produced new AI, and the whole project ended after the Council threatened to impose sanctions. What concerned this cabal of Matriarchs so much that it decided to show its hand again?”

“The Sidon facility had been performing research into something unusual,” said Tevos. “An artifact _,_ said to predate the Protheans themselves.”

“Goddess,” I breathed, seeing the implications. “They found a _Reaper_ artifact.”

The Councilor nodded. “Your mother and her colleagues feared that the researchers had found a good deal more than that. The project’s leader was a human scientist, Dr. Shu Qian. His sponsor, a batarian entrepreneur named Edan Had’dah, apparently found this artifact deep inside the Terminus Systems, orbiting an uncharted world near the Perseus Veil. Had’dah and Qian were unable to bring it back to Sidon for direct study. It was apparently quite large.”

“Do you suppose they found _Sovereign_ itself?” Aethyta wondered.

“In hindsight, it seems possible.” Tevos shrugged. “At the time, of course, none of us knew that _Sovereign_ existed, what it was, or what its capabilities might be. None of that became clear until after the attack on Eden Prime. When the cabal consulted with me, they expressed grave concern that Had’dah and Qian had disturbed _something_ very dangerous, and that their secrets had not died with them.”

Shepard rubbed his chin with one hand, following the chain of implications. “Saren’s report claimed that Qian and Had’dah died in the fire that Anderson started. Of course, that was a lie all along. Saren started the fire. Suppose he got to Qian and Had’dah first, killed them himself, and recovered their data?”

“We will doubtless never know the truth, but that seems a reasonable inference. Saren spent a great deal of time in the Terminus Systems in the years that followed. It seems likely that he went searching for the mysterious artifact. That he eventually found _Sovereign_ and made an alliance with it.”

“After which he ended up its helpless slave,” Shepard growled in disgust.

“The rest of the story, we know,” said Aethyta.

“Not quite.” I leaned back, frowning in deep thought for a moment. “I have often wondered why my mother chose to align herself with Saren.”

“Ah, we already know that. Nezzie was big on trying to make alliances with big players from other species.”

“True, but why _Saren_ , in particular? The galaxy is full of powerful and dangerous individuals who might be susceptible to a Matriarch’s persuasion.”

Shepard nodded, following my half-formed chain of logic. “She could have chosen anyone. Hell, she could have chosen the Illusive Man.”

Aethyta snorted. “Wouldn’t _that_ have changed things! You’re right. Nezzie must have had a reason to pick Saren.”

“That reason being that the cabal already suspected Saren was interfering in things better left alone.” Tevos nodded. “It fits. When Benezia and her colleagues came to consult with me, they were extremely concerned about Saren. They wanted to know everything I could tell them about his activities and plans.”

“Councilor, just when was this?” I asked.

“Not quite twelve years ago.”

“I see. My mother became his advisor two years after that.”

“That is so.”

“Goddess. If my mother _knew_ about the Reapers, if she suspected that Saren was searching for their artifacts, _why did she go anywhere near him?”_

Shepard frowned, concerned at the tension that had sent my voice up half an octave.

Tevos watched me, a hint of compassion in her face. “Dr. T’Soni, please believe me, I do not know what your mother was thinking at the time. The cabal was very cautious in sharing information with me. They warned me of what might be coming. They did not reveal their private plans.”

I shook my head wearily. “These Matriarchs have a great deal to answer for. It appears my mother bore even more responsibility than I believed for all that happened.”

“It doesn’t sound as if she knew all that much about the Reapers,” Shepard said. “Only that they were out there, waiting to ambush us. It seems clear that she didn’t know anything about indoctrination.”

“That would be consistent with the discussions the cabal had with me. The first I ever heard of the possibility of Reaper indoctrination was from your reports, during the war against Saren.”

“Still.” I fought down a burning resentment, managed to keep it out of my face if not my voice. “She had to know she was walking very close to the fire. It’s a pity that so many others found themselves burned as a result.”

Aethyta watched me, some nameless emotion twisting her face, but in the end she said nothing.

“That leads me to another question, Councilor.” Shepard stared at Tevos, his eyes suddenly flinty. “It sounds as if you were convinced of the existence of the Reapers long before I first went to Eden Prime. Why the _hell_ have you given me – and Liara, for that matter – so much grief over the past three years?”

Tevos only watched him, her serenity barely disturbed.

“You and your colleagues were nothing but dismissive and skeptical, the whole time we fought Saren. The moment I got killed, you swept everything we had learned under the rug. You outright _lied_ to the galaxy about what _Sovereign_ was and what it meant. You smeared Liara’s family name. You forced her to spend more than two years fighting to convince _anyone_ that the Reapers existed. You refused to support Anderson. You left humanity twisting in the wind when the Collectors attacked. Right up to the day the Reapers assaulted Earth, you failed to lift a finger to prepare.” He took a deep breath, struggling to bring his anger under control. “I think you owe us some answers.”

Tevos tilted her head back, giving Shepard an aristocratic stare. “I won’t deny that the Council has made a number of serious mistakes. Many of our decisions have proven to be drastically wrong in hindsight.”

“Councilor, that is a _vast_ understatement.”

“Still, every step in the path made sense at the time.” She shook her head in regret. “When you first came before the Council, I had good reason to take your assertions seriously. When you first mentioned _the Reapers_ , my heart stopped for a moment. Yet you had _nothing_ I could use to convince my colleagues. A _vision_ , without a scrap of objective evidence? It was all I could do to prevent you and Captain Anderson from being laughed out of chambers. You may recall that while Sparatus and Valern dismissed you with contempt, _I_ suggested that you go find _proof.”_

Shepard opened his mouth to protest, reconsidered, closed it again.

“When you presented proof, I used it to convince my colleagues to have Saren’s Spectre status rescinded. I _outmaneuvered_ them to appoint you as humanity’s first Spectre, empowered to pursue and capture Saren. While you chased him, I kept my colleagues in check, always avoiding the two-to-one vote that would have ended your mission.

“When you returned from Virmire, for once I could not prevent my colleagues from settling on a foolish strategy. I knew that Saren remained a danger, because I believed your warnings about the Reapers, but for that moment I could not act. Instead I manipulated Udina into placing the lockdown order on _Normandy_ , knowing you could find a way to work around _him_.

“Once Saren and _Sovereign_ were defeated, you and Udina pressed us to admit humanity as the fourth Council species. You spoke very eloquently on the subject, as I recall, but it was I who convinced my colleagues to agree.

“Afterward – largely on _your_ recommendation, Commander – the Alliance named Captain Anderson to be the new councilor. This was a very foolish move on your part. I have great admiration for David as a soldier, a man of honor, even as a friend. As a diplomat he proved _utterly_ useless. Udina would have been the better choice.”

“Udina!” Shepard scoffed.

“Yes, Commander, _Udina._ I knew him quite well. Three years ago, he was not desperate enough to do something foolish, such as allying himself with Cerberus. As a Councilor he would have been dishonest, unscrupulous, and _effective_. I might have been able to work with him to keep the other Councilors in check, mount a better response to the Collectors, and make more preparations against the Reapers.

“Captain Anderson . . . I believe the human expression is _bull in a china shop_. He simply _would not_ learn how to negotiate with Sparatus and Valern, how to maneuver around them to get what he needed. He refused advice from Udina. He never sought advice from me. Over and over again, the Council came down two to one, Sparatus and Valern against Anderson, and the most I could do was _abstain_ from some of the votes. Voting with Anderson would have been useless, as a deadlocked Council defaults to inaction. I did my best to encourage him from a distance, but that was all I could do to help humanity.”

I glanced at Shepard. He no longer looked red with anger. Now he was pale and trembling, as if he had suffered a mortal insult. I reached out, brushed his hand with my fingertips, and sent my mind to caress the surface of his.

Then I _glared_ at Tevos.

She had the good grace to look apologetic. “Commander, I’m aware that you and David are very close. Please believe me: I have nothing but admiration for him. It’s just that diplomacy, the art of practical politics, is _not_ one of his many talents. In a way I was glad when he resigned and returned to military service. That is where he belongs. Where his soul is most at home.”

Slowly, slowly, Shepard called himself back from the precipice. His face remained set and grim, but it regained some of its natural color. When he spoke, his voice was _almost_ devoid of anger and contempt.

Almost. Not quite.

“I suppose you’re right, Councilor. A man of honor and integrity, such as David Anderson, certainly does not belong _here._ ”

I had a moment’s warning from our light mental link. I did not flinch.

Tevos was not so fortunate. She lost control of that perfectly serene expression for a moment, her lips thinning in anger as the shot went home.

Then she took a deep breath and simply _willed_ it away.

“Commander, despite appearances, I have been in your camp from the day you first appeared before me in chambers. Even so, I have made a great many mistakes. In hindsight, it is clear I could have done more, should have taken the risks necessary to do more. History will doubtless judge me and this Council very harshly, assuming any of us survive the days to come.”

She rose from her chair and bowed to Shepard. Rather deeply.

“For all of that, I apologize. If need be, I will do so in public, to you and to Councilor Osoba as a representative of all your people.”

Aethyta and I sat motionless, frozen in astonishment. Tevos had made a gesture in which high-status asari rarely saw fit to indulge.

Shepard watched Tevos for a long moment, and then he rose from his chair once again. He gave Tevos a very asari bow in turn, and I marveled at how carefully he measured his own gesture.

 _I do not forgive_ , his body language said, _but I am willing to move forward._

The Councilor read him very plainly. “Thank you,” she murmured as she returned to her seat.

Shepard nodded curtly and sat down as well. “We still need to decide what to do. Liara can’t help fight a war against the Reapers if she has to keep defending herself against her own people.”

“Quite.” Tevos cocked her head, examining me closely. “May I ask _when_ you took over as the Shadow Broker?”

“Not quite ten months ago. Two days after Tela Vasir did her best to assassinate me, on the previous Broker’s orders.”

“I see. So when the Broker contacted me to insist that Commander Shepard should be reinstated as a Spectre . . .”

“That was me, yes. Almost the first thing I did after taking over.”

“Then I must congratulate you on your acting ability. You spoke and behaved very much like your predecessor. I did wonder at the time about the Broker’s reasons for making such a demand.”

I nodded grimly.

“I thank you for intervening. Knowing what I did at the time, I would have hesitated before moving to reinstate an apparent Cerberus agent as a Spectre. That would have been yet another grave error. I am glad you motivated me to act more directly.” She folded her hands together on the desktop. “I must admit to some curiosity. Who _was_ your predecessor?”

“A yahg.”

 _That_ got her attention. Her eyes widened in astonishment. “How . . .”

“It’s a very long and convoluted story, Councilor. Suffice it to say that he held the role of the Shadow Broker for over fifty years.”

She stared for another long moment, and then shook her head in dismay. “I suppose it isn’t relevant now. The fact remains that _you,_ Liara T’Soni, an asari maiden and the daughter of an infamous traitor, have somehow accumulated so much power that none of the Matriarchs see any way to keep you under control.”

“My heart _bleeds_ for the Matriarchs.”

Aethyta stirred uneasily. “Careful, Liara.”

“I know.” I sighed deeply. “I’m aware of the problem. I have no more desire than anyone to find myself on the run from assassins. Especially _asari_ assassins. But I am _done_ deferring to the Matriarchs. If they want me neutralized, they are going to have to work for it, and I fully intend to defend myself.”

“Even now, with the Reapers on the border of asari space?” asked Tevos.

“That only means that they would be very _stupid_ to attack someone who is using all of her resources to _defend_ her people.” I sat quietly for a few moments, thinking hard. “Councilor, I am detecting a number of contradictions here, and they disturb me greatly.”

She cocked her head in interest. “Specify.”

“The Asari Republics claim to be founded on a number of basic principles. One of these is that political decisions are to be made transparently and in the open, with every citizen afforded the opportunity to voice her opinion. Yet here we have a cabal of Matriarchs concealing absolutely vital information from the public, making crucial decisions on behalf of our people with no transparency whatsoever.”

“That is true.”

“Another principle is that every asari citizen enjoys freedom. She may pursue artistic or athletic excellence, become an expert in the sciences or a technical discipline, build her own business, seek political influence, anything that pleases her. The only limits are those imposed by her own nature and talents. Yet here I am faced with Matriarchs who fear my success, so greatly that they may be tempted to arrange for my death.”

Tevos only nodded soberly.

“Councilor, I submit to you that I am not _nearly_ the greatest threat currently posed to the asari people. Even if we all manage to survive destruction at the hands of the Reapers, are we in danger of losing that which makes us asari in the first place?”

Her eyes dropped, not meeting anyone’s gaze.

“I don’t know,” she said at last.

Shepard cleared his throat. “Councilor, isn’t it your _job_ to know? To respond? To lead your people away from temptation?”

Tevos took a long, deep breath. When she spoke, her voice seemed smaller, devoid of its usual calm authority. “I don’t know if I can.”

All of us stared at her. I don’t know what the others felt. For me, it was raw disbelief.

“If the asari people have gone astray, if we have forgotten how to pay more than lip service to the principles we claim to uphold . . . This is not something new. It has been in progress for many centuries. I serve a system that privileges the Matriarchs, permits them to circumvent all our democratic processes and ideals. That system built the Asari Republics. For that matter, it built the Citadel Council. I am a _product_ of that system. I am not cut out to be a revolutionary.”

“What a load of crap,” said Aethyta harshly.

Startled, I glanced at her, saw a spark of anger in her reddish-brown eyes.

“Back before I got laughed out of politics, I talked about this a lot. How we ought to get maidens taking life more seriously. Course, the other piece of that is getting us Matriarchs to let the maidens out from under our thumbs, so they _can_ go out and do more worthwhile things. You want to call that a revolution, I won’t argue. Been a few times I wouldn’t have minded nailing a battle-standard to a pole and storming the damn Assembly.

“Thing is, _none of that matters right now_. We don’t have _time_ to fix asari society. What we need to be thinking about is surviving the next few years. Maybe the next few _weeks_. How do we keep those idiots on Thessia from sabotaging my kid and her bondmate, one day at a time, while they get on with saving us all from the Reapers?”

Tevos straightened in her seat. “True.”

All of us sat quietly for some time, thinking hard.

Then Shepard cleared his throat. “Councilor, I may have a proposal.”

“What is it, Commander?”

“I’d like to offer you _Normandy_.”

“Intriguing. Please continue.”

“My current assignment from Admiral Hackett is to act as a roving envoy, representing the new turian-human-krogan accord. Before we formalized that accord, _Normandy_ spent time operating against Reaper forces throughout that part of the galaxy. Small missions: hit-and-run raids, recovery of critical resources and personnel, that sort of thing. It was effective in building up trust, creating an atmosphere in which final, binding agreements could be reached.”

Tevos nodded slowly. “I see. You believe the same approach could reassure the Matriarchs.”

“Sure. The asari have plenty of resources, but _Normandy_ is unique, with capabilities no other ship in the galaxy can match. Liara and I are one of those capabilities. We are very effective in the field. We have a lot of influence over the new alliance’s strategy. We carry a lot of political weight. Most important, she and I are _partners_ , on a basis that every asari can recognize. The Matriarchs may be bigots, but they’re not fools. Tell them you’ve persuaded me to place _Normandy_ at the disposal of the asari High Command, and they’ll see the implications.”

“Dr. T’Soni? What is your opinion?”

“It seems workable. I doubt the Matriarchs are any more inclined to trust Shepard than they are me, but if you make it appear that this move is the result of _your_ efforts . . .”

Tevos nodded. “Quite.”

“I do have one request. Do you have any way to contact the cabal to which my mother belonged?”

“Perhaps. They seem to be in considerable disarray ever since Benezia went over to the enemy, but I know the names of two or three of them. Matriarch Thessala, in particular. I can exert some pressure.”

“Please do that, if you are able, and ask them to release as much Prothean data as they have.”

Tevos nodded. “You still hope to find clues to our present crisis.”

“Yes. All those data currently under Matriarch’s Seal may contain vital clues we need for the completion of the Crucible project.”

“Of course, I will do what I can.” The Councilor looked at me for a moment longer. “Dr. T’Soni, before we break up this meeting, may I offer some advice?”

“Certainly.”

“I am forced to question whether you would be wise to continue concealing your identity as the Shadow Broker. A secret can be used as a weapon, but once it escapes your control . . .”

She stopped, because I was _grinning_ at her.

“You may wish to check the news,” I said.

Bemused, she touched controls on her desktop, calling up a holographic window. Then another, and a third.

_BREAKING NEWS: Identity of Shadow Broker Revealed!_

Videos of the crowd I had left behind at the base of the Council Tower, _dozens_ of asari milling about. A close-up of Vara T’Rathis giving a speech to the crowd. More close-ups vids and stills, of some of our friends and allies: Primarch Victus, Admiral Hackett, Urdnot Wrex, Aspasia Lehanai, Matriarch Pytho . . .

While Tevos watched the news in fascination, I opened my omni-tool. “Glyph.”

“ _Yes, Dr. T’Soni.”_

“Execute Case White.”

“ _At once, Dr. T’Soni.”_

I looked up to catch the Councilor’s expression of curiosity.

“I’ve just ordered my assistant to send out a pre-composed message to all of my leading operatives, the ones directly on my payroll who know they work for the Shadow Broker. Now they will know who the Broker is.” I smiled at her again, but it wasn’t a kindly smile. “They are also receiving orders that if anything should happen to me under suspicious circumstances, they are to respond with _extreme_ prejudice. Something else you may want to pass along to the Matriarchs back on Thessia.”

“You planned for this?”

I shrugged. “I suspected it might become necessary at some point. Too many people already knew the Broker’s new identity. I’ve spent months reorganizing my network, replacing operatives I couldn’t trust, redesigning command and control, so I could stop imitating the yahg’s obsession with concealment. I doubt I will lose more than ten percent of my operatives after today, and it won’t be the best ten percent.”

A slow smile spread across her face. “Dr. T’Soni, you may have things to learn about manipulation and practical politics, but I see there is nothing wrong with your strategic sense.”

“Thank you. Is there anything else we must discuss?”

Tevos shook her head. “Not at present.”

* * *

I took a deep breath as soon as we entered the lift, on our way back down to the Presidium ring. “Goddess. I’m glad _that_ is over.”

“Surprised that she turned out to be so reasonable?”

“Maybe a little.” I smiled at Shepard. “Remember, she may _still_ be manipulating us to get what she wants.”

“You can _bank_ on that,” Aethyta grumbled. “Notice that she got _Normandy_ for the asari without promising much of anything in return.”

“I noticed,” said Shepard. “Still, it gives us a chance to bring the asari into the alliance we’re trying to build. That’s a win, no matter how we got there. We can worry about shaking up the Asari Republics once we know we’re all going to see another day.”

“I agree,” I said. “Although I think there _will_ have to be a reckoning, once this is all over.”

Aethyta cocked her head at me. “Liara?”

“Let’s just say I’m beginning to feel a few revolutionary urges myself.”

“Good for you. Give me a call and I’ll come running.”

“Thank you.” I reached up to rub tension out of the back of my neck. “Unfortunately, right now I have to give a press conference.”

Shepard grinned at me. “We _could_ sneak out the back . . .”

“No. I’m finished running and hiding. I am the Shadow Broker, but that doesn’t mean what it did even a year ago. It’s time for the galaxy to understand that.”

“Or at least as much of it as the galaxy can handle,” my father muttered.

I gave her a sharp glance, but refused to rise to her bait. Instead we crossed the lobby of the Council Tower in silence. I was first through the doors, out into the brilliant light of the Presidium, facing the sudden roar of a frighteningly large crowd.


	33. Home Front

I see no need to describe the public address and press conference I held on Concord Plaza. The press documented the occasion quite thoroughly. No doubt the recordings remain easy enough to find on the extranet.

I should observe that the occasion proved yet another turning point in my life.

It certainly did not seem so at the time. In fact, most of my life’s critical moments have become visible only in hindsight. When Shepard rescued me on Therum, I had no idea he was about to become the great passion of my youth. When I first turned to intelligence analysis during our war against Saren, I had no notion of the power and influence that awaited me as an information broker.

That day, when I gave my speech and stood up under a barrage of questions from the press, not even the _remotest_ possibility of a career in politics entered my mind. Having just left Councilor Tevos’s office, my opinion of politicians was not very high at that moment. Yet looking back, I can see that occasion as a first step on the path that led me to the Presidency.

It’s just as well that the path took me fifty years to walk. That gave me plenty of time to grow accustomed to the idea.

* * *

**_24 May 2186, Presidium/Citadel_ **

Once the event had finished, my acolytes formed a small but formidable phalanx around Shepard, Garrus, and me. The crowd made little attempt to follow us, but had a harder time escaping from the press. Vara carried out a rather clever subterfuge, misdirecting our pursuers long enough for us to board an unmarked aircar and escape. Sitting in the back seat of the vehicle, Nerylla and Garrus in the front seat, I could finally lean back, close my eyes, hold Shepard’s hand, and just _breathe_ for a few moments.

“Where are we going, _despoina?”_ asked Nerylla.

“Back to _Normandy?”_ I groaned.

“Hmm.” Shepard squeezed my hand, encouraging me to open my eyes and see him shake his head. “There’s a problem with that. Admiral Saneyoshi contacted me while you were dealing with the press. Seems _Normandy_ is overdue for repair and refit. Not to mention the _crew_ has been running hard and without a break, ever since the war started.”

“I’ll say,” rumbled Garrus. “By my count, _Normandy_ has fought almost twice as many engagements as any other ship in the Alliance Navy.”

“That’s what it means to be the tip of the spear,” said Shepard. “In any case, the admiral convinced me to hand the ship over to a refit team for a couple of days, and give everyone shore leave.”

I stared at him for a moment, feeling an irrational burst of annoyance. “Oh Shepard. After the last few hours, I rather looked forward to retreating back to the ship.”

“I can imagine. Don’t you have a place on the Citadel?”

“Not really. As the Shadow Broker, I own a small office building on the Presidium. A few analysts and network administrators work there. I sometimes use it for office space when I’m on the Citadel, but I usually get a room in a hotel for after-hours.”

“I suppose we could do that.”

 _“Despoina,_ I can arrange a high-security suite for you and your bondmate,” Nerylla suggested.

I sighed. “It’s too early in the day, and I have too much work to do. Let’s go to the office instead. Nerylla, contact Vara and the others and have them meet me there.”

“As you wish, _despoina_ _.”_

Garrus stared at Nerylla for a moment, and then turned to look at me with amusement dancing in his eyes. “Spirits, Liara, how _did_ you get a squad of asari commandos to swear fealty to you?”

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure.”

“By being who she is,” said Nerylla, not glancing away from her work at the controls.

“Huh. We turians don’t have anything like that. Seems odd that you asari do. You’re usually so independent-minded in comparison.”

“Turian loyalty is to the group,” Shepard observed. “Asari loyalty is always to an individual, but it can be _extremely_ intense.”

Garrus glanced at me. “I’ve had a chance to see that, yes. You’re a fortunate man, Shepard.”

I looked away, embarrassed.

“I know.” Shepard leaned over to place a gentle kiss on my crest. “Liara, I’ve got some chores to take care of myself. I should go back to _Normandy_ , just long enough to make sure everything’s in good order for the yard dogs. I can pick up some of your things while I’m there. Can you have one of your acolytes drive me?”

Nerylla glanced over her shoulder. “Once the others arrive to watch over our principal, I would be happy to do that, Commander.”

“What about you, Garrus?” I asked.

The turian made a fending-off gesture. “No need. I should probably check in with Sparatus. I can call a cab once we get to this office of yours.”

“That sounds like a plan,” I agreed. “Shepard, call me early this evening? We can decide where to stay, and maybe arrange for a little downtime for ourselves for a change.”

“It’s a deal.”

* * *

The office was not a refuge.

As soon as I sat down at my usual desk, I opened up my message queues, and then sat staring at them in disbelief for a long moment. Half the galaxy suddenly wanted to speak to Liara T’Soni.

Fortunately, something similar had happened to me before. A similar deluge arrived on the day the Council released its farcical report on the Battle of the Citadel, calling the T’Soni name into serious disrepute. This time I had more resources to deal with the problem. I turned Glyph loose on my inbox, knowing the VI more than capable of flagging the most important callers, and producing polite _please go away_ messages for the rest.

The Shadow Broker’s inbox was not so full, but I considered the messages there somewhat more critical. Most of my network could be expected to fall into line, so long as my money remained good, but a few critical operatives and analysts needed my personal attention.

Barla Von turned out easy enough to handle, once he understood that he had _already_ been working for me for the better part of a year without realizing it. It helped that he already had close working ties with David Anderson and with Shepard. He understood the need to work together against the Reapers, no matter who stood at the center of the network.

Tazzik presented more difficulty. The enormous salarian had no doubt of my _ability_ to lead the Shadow Broker’s network, and since taking over I had already rewarded him well for his service. The problem came from his tendency to hold grudges. Almost three years earlier, I had gotten the better of him in the matter of Shepard’s remains, and he had not forgotten. I had to take a very hard line with him, not _threatening_ him as such, but making it clear I would not tolerate rebellion. Imitating something of my mother’s manner seemed to help. In the end, he agreed to stay on as one of my leading operatives, commanding the _Normandy_ -class ship he had once again named _Dark River_.

Submerged in negotiations, I barely noticed when Garrus poked his head into my office and murmured a polite farewell, when Vara and the other acolytes appeared, when Nerylla returned from taking Shepard to _Normandy_. Hours passed.

I _did_ notice when my omni-tool chirped, the tone indicating a text message from Shepard.

_Liara, I have a place for us to stay. Are you free yet?_

I smiled, and tapped in a response.

_I’m afraid not, love. It may be two or three more hours before I can close up for the evening. Where shall I meet you?_

_Kithoi Ward. Tiberius Towers, suite five-gamma. It’s Admiral Anderson’s apartment, but he’s offered to let us stay there while we’re on the Citadel. Doesn’t want it to go to waste, I guess._

_That’s very thoughtful of him. I will come as soon as I can._

_If you’re still tied up, Joker and I are going to go ahead and have dinner out. Here’s the door code if you arrive before I get back._

_Be careful, love._

_I always am._

I smiled, and then touched a control on my desk. “Vara?”

Rather than answer over the intercom, she appeared in the doorway. “Yes, _despoina?”_

“Shepard has apparently found quarters for us: Admiral Anderson’s apartment, in the Tiberius Towers. Unit five- _gamma_. I imagine you will want to send someone over to ensure the place is secure.”

She nodded in agreement. “I will see to it. But that brings up something else I need to discuss with you.”

I sat back in my chair to watch her closely. I had come to recognize that tone of voice. “What is it?”

“Given all that has happened today, I think we should consider setting up a permanent security detail for you.”

That suggestion provoked a surprising surge of resentment. I had to reflect for a moment before I understood the reaction. “Hmm. Vara, I’m not sure I’ve mentioned it, but one reason I cut off ties with my mother was that I felt stifled by the constant presence of _her_ security detail.”

“Yes, I know that. I’m sorry, _despoina_ , but in my professional opinion you can no longer do without. Especially if you and your bondmate are going to be spending significant time in asari space.”

I smiled affectionately at her. “You _do_ realize, Vara, that Shepard and the rest of the _Normandy_ crew already constitute very formidable protection?”

“True.” Her answering grin was infectious. “Although your frequent insistence on accompanying him onto the battlefield does _not_ help.”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t. Vara, I don’t think I’m going to resist you on this point. I think Shepard would agree to permit a few of our people onto _Normandy_ , although it would have to be _only_ a few. Let’s assume we can bring three asari onto the ship. That would permit at least one to be on duty at all times. Who would you choose?”

“I would come myself, of course.” She must have caught something in my expression, because her own face became very sober and still. “We’ve had this discussion before, Liara. Your bonding with Shepard is _not_ an issue for me.”

I nodded slowly, knowing her well enough to hear the bare truth in her voice. “I will admit, it would be useful to have you close at hand to help me run the Broker’s network from _Normandy_. Who else?”

“Nerylla, I think. She is the best of the lot, with superb training and tactical instincts. I would have to spend a little more time with the rest before I could choose among them.”

“All right. We’ll discuss it with Shepard as soon as we get the chance. I think he will agree.”

“I know he will.” Vara grinned again. “I’ve _already_ discussed it with him. He was quite enthusiastic. I think he is eager to see what a few asari commandos could do in partnership with his Marines.”

I shook my head in rueful admiration. “If the two of you are starting to conspire, I fear I’m doomed.”

“Nonsense. We both have nothing but your best interests at heart, _despoina.”_

“Thank the Goddess for small favors.” I smiled to take the sting out of my words. “Now _shoo_. I need to get through this stack of messages.”

She made an ironic half-bow as she backed out of my office.

* * *

I had almost reached a reasonable end-point, when Vara called me over the intercom. _“Despoina? I think you should have a look at something . . .”_

I rose and stretched for a moment, then paced into the outer office. Vara sat at a desk of her own, a holographic screen up. Apparently she had been watching the news, skimming for further commentary on the day’s events.

“What is it, Vara?”

“Something’s happening down in the Wards.”

She pointed at the screen. I looked more closely, read the banner on the current story.

 _Outbreak of Violence at Popular Restaurant_.

We could see the front of a restaurant, with people milling about, C-Sec and emergency responders on hand. I realized I knew the place: _Ryuusei,_ an upscale establishment managed by humans. I had eaten there occasionally on past visits to the Citadel, enjoying a cuisine called _sushi_ that resembled some Thessian seafood dishes.

“Vara, I don’t understand. Why is this important?”

She tapped at controls on the screen. The image froze, zoomed in, and increased in quality. There, in the center of the zone she selected, I saw a male human in Alliance undress uniform, wearing a cap with the characters _SR2_ embroidered on the front, apparently arguing at length with a C-Sec officer. “That’s the pilot from _Normandy_ , isn’t it?”

“Hmm.” I leaned close to be sure. “You’re right, that’s Joker. Shepard messaged me earlier that the two of them were going to eat out this evening. Is there any sign of him?”

“I haven’t seen him.”

I touched my omni-tool. “Shepard?”

Another channel, higher priority and with encryption on the link. _“Shepard?”_

Still no reply.

“He’s in trouble. _Come on_ _.”_

I rushed out of the office, Vara seconds behind me. In the outer room we collected two more asari, Nerylla and Kyriake. The moment they saw our urgency, they seized weapons and gear and moved to follow.

Fortunately an aircar stood ready to go outside, and the pertinent region of Kithoi Ward was only a few minutes away. We bundled into the vehicle, Nerylla taking the pilot’s seat, and soared into the air.

I took the time to attempt contact with others from the _Normandy_ crew. With very little success.

_Damn it! With the ship in the yards and everyone on shore leave, they’re scattered all over the Citadel and out of official communication._

Suddenly I felt a great deal of suspicion.

_This is a perfect time to attack Shepard. Someone knew._

Finally I got through to Ashley, although I had to use a Spectre channel to do it.

_“Liara? What’s wrong?”_

“Shepard is in danger. I think he’s in Kithoi Ward, at a restaurant called _Ryuusei.”_

 _“Hey, that’s my favorite sushi place on the Citadel.”_ Her voice changed, became cool and professional. _“Never mind. What’s the threat?”_

“Unknown. The news just says there was an outbreak of violence. Someone may have attacked him.”

_“You want me to gather the troops?”_

“I’ve been trying that. You’re the first one to respond.”

_“That’s not right. I made sure everyone took a comm with them when they went off-duty.”_

“Then someone is interfering with _Normandy_ channels. Perhaps it would be best if you came at once.”

_“You got it. I’ll grab my gear and be there ASAP.”_

Vara and I exchanged glances. I could tell she thought along the same lines.

Nerylla hurried. We landed a short distance from _Ryuusei_ just a few moments later, a C-Sec vehicle flashing lights and sounding its siren at us in warning. Officers moved to intercept us as we approached the scene, a human sergeant taking the lead.

“Sorry, ladies, you’re going to have to step back,” he said. “This is a crime scene.”

“Sergeant . . .” I glanced at his jacket, saw his name embroidered on the front. “Sergeant Collins, my name is Liara T’Soni.”

“Yeah, I know who you are.” The policeman’s face softened slightly. “You’re here about Shepard, aren’t you?”

“Is he here?”

“Afraid not. Come on, I’ll let you through the cordon. Guy here saw the whole thing.”

What I saw inside the restaurant shocked me. No simple bar brawl had taken place. An armed force had invaded the place, with a liberal application of gunfire. I saw bullet holes everywhere, and the great fish-tank that once made up much of the restaurant’s floor had been ruined. Gaping holes yawned in both the top and bottom of the tank, and all the water in one section had escaped. Sergeant Collins led Vara and me carefully around the abyss.

The _guy here_ turned out to be Joker, of course. A look of relief spread across his face the moment he saw us. “Doc, thank goodness. These yahoos haven’t listened to a word I’ve said.”

Collins shook his head in disgust. “Mr. Moreau, we’ve been _listening_ , it’s just that you haven’t been saying anything we can _use_. Maybe with Dr. T’Soni here, you’ll be a bit more coherent?”

I tried to project calm. “Please tell us what happened, Joker.”

The pilot put on a long-suffering expression, as if he was about to begin a recitation for the fifth or sixth time. “Commander and I were just sitting down to eat. Hadn’t even gotten our orders in yet. Then this crazy lady in Alliance uniform gets past the head-waiter and comes stumbling over to our table. Says someone is trying to kill Shepard.”

“Who was this?” I demanded.

“Said her name was Brooks. Staff Analyst Brooks.” Joker shrugged. “I dunno. Never saw her before in my life. If she’s typical of Alliance intel staff, then I can understand why people say _military intelligence_ is an oxymoron.”

I glanced at Vara. She made a microscopic nod and opened her omni-tool.

“Anyway. She warned us that someone was hacking into Shepard’s _information_. Identity records, military records, comm channels, everything. Like they didn’t just want him dead, they wanted to _own_ him somehow.” Joker shook his head in amazement. “Then these guys in armor just walked in and started shooting up the place.”

I looked at Sergeant Collins. “Guys in armor?”

“We’ve got a few of them over here.” Collins gave me a sharp-edged smile. “Meat for the morgue. Far as anyone can tell, your husband came in here unarmed and without any of his gear, and he _still_ managed to take down four heavily armed mercs on his way out the door.”

“Only because he used me as _bait_ _,”_ Joker muttered.

“All right. Where is Shepard now?”

“Don’t know, Doctor. I’m afraid he didn’t actually use the _door_ when he left.”

I frowned, letting a bit of anger show.

Collins pointed to the gaping hole in the floor of the restaurant. “He went _that_ way. Floor panels must have been weakened by the gunfire. God only knows where he ended up.”

“ _Goddess.”_ I glanced through the gap. _Ryuusei_ projected out from the face of the building it occupied. I saw nothing but open space beneath us, for well over a hundred meters. “Vara, get the others. We have to go after him.”

“Doctor, C-Sec has locked down that entire precinct,” Collins objected. “You can’t go down there.”

I gave Collins a _very_ cold glare. “My husband is down there, and he may be badly hurt. I would not advise you to try to stop me, Sergeant. One last question: where is this Brooks person?”

“She got shot. By the time I saw her, she was positively loopy on medi-gel. I sent her to evac.”

“Here’s the Alliance military dossier,” said Vara, showing me an image from her omni-tool. A young woman stared out of the hologram at me: in uniform, dark brown skin, dark eyes, hair neatly tucked up into a bun. “She appears legitimate.”

“All right. Come on, Vara.”

We four asari gathered outside the restaurant. Nerylla and Kyriake visually scanned the sides of the great valley of glass and metal that yawned beneath us.

“It doesn’t look good, _despoina_. See there?” Nerylla pointed down, thirty meters or so. I saw what must once have been some kind of electronic advertisement, lit panels forming a great symbol many meters tall. Now it was shattered and dark. “That assembly is right below the hole in the restaurant floor. Something struck it hard and kept going.”

“Shepard could have caught himself there,” I said.

Nerylla looked unhappy.

I gave her a grim smile. “You’ve only been in my service for a few hours, Nerylla. You haven’t had time to become familiar with my bondmate. He is _very_ physically capable.”

She glanced at Vara, got a nod of confirmation. “Yes, _despoina_ _.”_

“Assume that Shepard survived the fall and is now following his escape-and-evasion training. Where will he go?”

My acolytes glanced at each other in chagrin, and then Vara spoke up. _“Despoina,_ this is very unusual territory for escape-and-evasion. I’m not sure that human training would be the same as ours in any case. You know Shepard better than any of us.”

“And _of course_ I’m the only one of us with almost no military experience.” I sighed in disgust, looked down to scan the area once more. “We’re going to split up,” I decided. “We can cover more ground that way.”

“Are you sure that’s wise, _despoina?_ There may be more of those mercenaries out there.”

“True, but we need to search quickly. Shepard could be injured, unable to communicate, even _dying_.” I looked around at my acolytes, and decided to appeal to their pride. “Besides, you three _are_ commando-trained. Stealth, evasion, and ambush. It would take more than a few mercenaries to stop any of you.”

“Very well, _despoina_ _.”_ Vara set her jaw in determination. “What are your orders?”

“I suspect Shepard will try to put obstacles between him and his enemies as part of his evasion strategy. He may try to cross over to the other side. You and Kyriake divide up this side. Nerylla and I will cross over and search there. Whoever finds him, or evidence of him, call and we will gather there.”

They exchanged glances once more, clearly still unhappy with the situation, but then each nodded in turn. I turned and marched for the aircar, hearing Nerylla fall in behind me, and hoped I wasn’t making a grave mistake.


	34. Faceless Enemies

**_24 May 2186, Lower Kithoi Ward/Citadel_ **

Nerylla dropped me off in the lower Wards. After we divided our attention, I began working my way through the locked-down district. The streets seemed quiet enough, with citizens safe in their homes and every storefront abandoned for the moment. I moved cautiously, ghosting from cover to cover, maintaining the best situational awareness I could.

From somewhere in the distance, I heard the sound of small-arms fire. I stopped and listened carefully, but I couldn’t place the noise. A maze of buildings and narrow streets surrounded me, and sound carried in strange ways.

When the noise stopped for a moment, I crouched in an abandoned storefront and opened my omni-tool. I had enjoyed no luck reaching Shepard through Citadel or even Spectre channels, but perhaps we were now close enough that a direct link was possible.

“Shepard?”

An indistinct sound, like words buried under too much static.

I tried again. “Shepard? Can you hear me? Are you all right?”

Finally his voice came through clearly. _“I’m fine.”_ Even through the low-quality link, I could hear tension in his voice. _“Might need a little backup.”_

“Thank the Goddess. Joker explained what happened. Where are you?”

_“Not sure. In a market, quite a few levels down from the restaurant. I’m trying to get to the . . .”_

_“Commander!”_ A new voice, human female, rather high-pitched with tension. _“Don’t give out your location!”_

“What?” I frowned. “Who _is_ this?”

_“I could ask you the same. You’re on an unsecured channel, and you’re putting Commander Shepard in danger!”_

“He’s _already_ in danger, you fool!”

 _“Hang on,”_ Shepard ordered. _“Joker mentioned Staff Analyst Brooks, right? That’s her. Everybody play nice.”_

“If you say so.” I opened my omni-tool, checked a map of the area, made a guess as to where Shepard could be found. “I’m on foot, but I should reach you soon. There is other help on the way as well.”

_“Good to know.”_

I rose to my feet and hurried. The streets still stood empty around me, so I took a few chances about moving out of cover. “Vara, any luck?”

_“Not yet. We heard the gunfire too. We’re trying to get closer, but it’s slow work.”_

“Keep trying.”

Then another voice broke into the channel I had found for Shepard, a flanging tenor. _“Garrus here. Heard you’re in trouble, Shepard. The word is out. Everybody’s heading your way.”_

 _“Good to hear,”_ said Shepard. _“Things are a little dicey.”_

 _“Wouldn’t have it any other way,”_ said the turian. _“Liara, any idea about the opposition?”_

“Some kind of mercenary group, as far as I can tell. It’s not clear what they want.”

 _“They want me,”_ Shepard pointed out.

“You’re already spoken for,” I told him. “Hang on.”

 _“Yes, ma’am.”_ A moment later, Shepard spoke again, an unmistakable note of satisfaction in his voice. _“Brooks! I found a way across. It’s locked down.”_

_“Right, because of the, uh, lockdown. Can you get through?”_

I revised my opinion of the mysterious Maya Brooks and her intelligence. Downward.

 _“I’ll try to override it.”_ A short pause, then: _“Hah. Spectre authorization worked.”_

Suddenly I heard an alarm and an outbreak of gunfire, from off to my left about a hundred meters away. Then an _explosion:_ a bright blue flare of light, followed by a characteristic crashing _boom_. Shepard must have used his biotics, detonating his own barriers in a _nova_ -blast.

 _“Commander!”_ shouted Brooks.

I turned to hurry in that direction. “Shepard, what are you doing? I heard that from here!”

 _“It’s . . . all . . . under control.”_ I could hear small-arms fire over the channel between his words.

 _“Was that some kind of alarm?”_ asked Garrus. _“What’s going on?”_

_“Just thought I’d make things a bit more interesting.”_

_“Of course you did,”_ the turian drawled in amusement.

Just then my omni-tool chimed again. A message from Brooks, and a navigation point.

 _Well, perhaps she’s not_ entirely _useless._

“Shepard, Brooks sent me a nav-point for an aircar lot. It looks as if I’m the closest. I’ll meet you there.”

_“Good.”_

“Do you know anything about these mercenaries?”

_“They have guns, and they don’t like me?”_

“That’s _not_ very helpful.”

Brooks broke in once more. _“Commander, it would really be great if you could stay off the comm.”_

I took the hint, and picked up my pace. The sound of gunfire was very close now, with the occasional explosion mixed in.

_“Commander, there’s a C-Sec shuttle inbound, if you can get to the landing pad at the aircar lot.”_

_“Understood.”_

_“Okay. Brooks over! No, out. Brooks out. Over and out? Brooks! Oh, damn it.”_

I rolled my eyes in exasperation, and then dropped down into cover. Just in time. I had reached the edge of the aircar lot, a Cision Motors dealership, and I saw people who did not belong there. Four figures, all of them humans in bulky combat armor, waiting in ambush.

Fortunately they all faced the wrong direction, toward the noise of battle and away from me. I eased through a door to get into the showroom, and then flitted from one car to another, never exposing myself for more than a moment at a time. I had no trouble reaching the point at which I planned to begin my own surprise.

The mercenaries had shields, but I still had some of Tali’s old programs for overload charges in my omni-tool. I sent a charge flying, an enemy’s shield went down in sparks and flares, and then a telekinetic throw smashed my victim against a nearby stone planter. One down.

The other three turned and lay down a barrage of fire.

It was a quick fight. My Shuriken seemed as effective as ever in tearing down enemy shields. A burst or two of fire, then a surge from my biotic corona as my left hand lashed out, repeat as needed. It took less than a minute before the last mercenary began looking frantically around for an exit. I didn’t give him the opportunity.

A door opened _behind_ the fallen mercenaries. As I rose from cover and strode out onto the showroom floor, Shepard came out to meet me. He wore casual clothes, looking pale, somewhat drenched from his fall through the fish-tank, but he had a pistol at the ready and a determined expression on his face. I felt a rush of affection spiced with desire, and smiled at him.

“Having a bad day, Shepard?”

He smiled at me and lowered his sidearm, a pistol of unfamiliar make. I decided he must have taken it from one of the mercenaries. “You could say that.”

I pointed over to my right. “The landing pad is over there, but the gate is locked.”

“We can fix that.” Shepard glanced around, saw the dealership offices a few steps away. He strode in that direction.

“I understand you fell through a fish tank,” I remarked as I followed him.

“We’ll talk about it later.”

“A shame,” I teased him. “I rather liked that restaurant.”

“We’ll talk about it _later,”_ he growled. He approached the office door, only to see its control panel flash from green to red. He frowned, raised his pistol once more and took a stance. “Stand back . . .”

I saw something he had missed. I put a gentle hand on his arm, encouraging him to lower the weapon. Then I rapped firmly on the office window. “Hello? Could you please open the gate?”

The volus I had spotted didn’t seem to move from his position, cowering under his desk. He must have activated some control, though, because the gate out to the landing pad made a loud _chirp_ and began to rise.

“Thank you.”

_“Please leave.”_

I smiled at Shepard and led the way out to the pad.

“Well,” he said. _“I_ could have done _that.”_

While we crossed the showroom floor, I opened my comm. “Vara? I’ve found Shepard.”

 _“That’s very good news,_ despoina. _I’ll have everyone converge on your position.”_

We stepped out onto the landing pad, where I could hear the sound of an approaching shuttle. It swept in from our right, looking remarkably comforting in its blue-and-white C-Sec colors. It settled toward the pad, the side-hatch began to open . . .

Shepard caught me around the waist, throwing both of us down to the floor behind a display unit. As I fell, I caught just a glimpse of more black-armored figures in the shuttle, and then a storm of weapons fire tore through the spot where we had stood a moment before.

“I sincerely hope that isn’t our ride,” I gasped.

“You and me both. _Damn,_ they’ve got some heavy weapons in there.”

“How are we going to get out of this one?”

“I’m thinking . . .”

Just then my heart leaped into my throat, for what felt like the seventeenth time that day. An _enormous_ howling roar erupted from somewhere above us. Shepard and I looked up, just in time to see a large, red-armored _krogan_ come flying through an advertising hologram about seven meters above our heads.

The krogan landed on the nose of the shuttle with a great _crash_ , upsetting the entire vehicle. The hail of gunfire abruptly cut off as our attackers stumbled. I peeked out, just in time to see the newcomer dive into the shuttle’s passenger compartment. Then black-armored mercenaries began flying out, some onto the landing pad, others out the far side to hurtle down into the abyss.

The entire fight took perhaps twenty seconds. Then Urdnot Wrex emerged from the shuttle, an expression of _complete_ satisfaction on his face. “Hah! Bet you never saw a shuttle taken down like _that_ before.” He chuckled, a sound like thunder in a barrel. “I still got it.”

Shepard emerged from cover with a grin. “What are _you_ doing here, Wrex?”

“Butting heads with the Council over krogan plans for expansion after the war.” The big krogan bent to search one of the dead mercenaries, picked up a minigun to toss to Shepard. Then he gave _me_ a significant glance. “All my meetings for today got cancelled. Something about the Shadow Broker turning up on the Citadel and causing a ruckus.”

I shook my head in mock-chagrin. “Sorry, Wrex.”

“Ah, don’t mention it. Thanks to you, I was free this evening, and when I heard Shepard was in trouble down in the Wards? Well. Never _could_ pass up a good fight.”

My comm came to life. “Despoina _, watch out! More of the mercenaries are about to swarm your position.”_

“Looks like you get more, Wrex,” I observed.

_“Hah!”_

I couldn’t see where they came from, but Vara proved right. While Shepard, Wrex, and I found positions and prepared our weapons, a fire-team of black-armored mercenaries deployed from a higher level onto the landing pad. Then another, and another.

For once, I found myself in touch with my own krogan ancestry. The fight actually felt somewhat _enjoyable_. The three of us fought separately; there wasn’t enough cover for us to fortify any one position, and the mercenaries kept dropping from above in unpredictable places. All of us simply went hunting. Shepard used his flash-charge and nova-blast over and over, bouncing around the landing pad like a biotic wrecking ball. Wrex charged into close-quarters combat, leaving shattered and bleeding mercenaries in his wake. I tore down shields with gunfire, then broke necks and shattered ribcages with raw telekinetic force.

I almost felt pity for the poor mercenaries. Then I reminded myself that they were doing their best to kill _us_. Fortunately their best wasn’t nearly good enough.

_“Commander!”_

“Joker? We lost our ride. Where are you?”

_“On my way. I picked up Brooks. Figured you might have a few questions.”_

I came around a large planter and found myself face-to-face with a startled mercenary. He began to raise his weapon.

Then his head exploded.

I dove for cover, dropping a singularity a few meters ahead of me to hinder any other foes, and then glanced across the thoroughfare to the sheer face of the buildings on the opposite side. I couldn’t see anyone, but I knew at least one asari sniper must have taken up a position there. I gave her a cheerful wave, and then went back to work.

“Good to be back!” roared Wrex from somewhere behind me. “Oh _yeah!”_

Light flashed by from behind me and to my left, close enough to brush my side. Then Shepard appeared explosively in the middle of another mercenary fire-team, scattering them like chaff before they could even finish deploying.

 _“Commander?”_ The mysterious Brooks again. _“Did C-Sec find you? Are you okay?”_

“Yes and no,” Shepard answered. “Mercs in a C-Sec shuttle.”

_“What?”_

He made another flash-charge, this one just a few meters long, to blind-side a mercenary aiming at Wrex. “Little busy right now!”

_“Right. Sorry! We’ll be there soon!”_

By coincidence, Shepard and I came in on both flanks of another mercenary. He went down in a blaze of blue light. My bondmate took a moment to flash me a wild grin, before launching himself into another flash-charge off to our right.

Wrex charged across my field of view, firing his Claymore repeatedly at a cluster of foes. “Great place to fight in, Shepard! Lots of breakables!”

“Glad I could provide, Wrex.”

“What else are friends for?” growled the krogan.

 _“Approaching your position,”_ said Joker a few moments later. _“Just following the gunfire.”_

“Copy that,” said Shepard as he fired his captured mini-gun at a cluster of enemies.

_“Sorry I’m late. Had to take the scenic route.”_

_“Scenic route?”_ demanded Brooks, her voice shrill with terror. _“We nearly crashed four times! Where the hell did you learn to drive?”_

 _“Oh, and Brooks says hi.”_ Joker’s voice changed, became cool and professional. _“Visual on the LZ, Commander. Five seconds out.”_

I knew what _that_ meant. _Time to beat feet_ , as Ashley might have said.

I turned, dropped a singularity just behind me, and sprinted for the edge of the landing pad. One or two rounds struck me on the way, but my shields and biotic barrier shed the gunfire.

Another shuttle hovered just above the edge of the landing pad, the hatch already open. One, two, three, we leaped aboard. I reached out to give Shepard a quick hand up, and he rewarded me with a quick kiss. The shuttle soared up into the air, our enemies sending futile fire to pursue us.

I keyed my comm. “Vara, we’re free. Disengage and evade. Meet us at the apartment.”

_“Acknowledged.”_

* * *

**_25 May 2186, Upper Kithoi Ward/Citadel_ **

Shepard had already spent a few hours at Anderson’s apartment, so he walked in with complete familiarity. I had to stop for a moment in the entry hall.

_Goddess, the Admiral must be fabulously wealthy. Or else he enjoys a very large stipend from the Alliance._

It put my old apartment on Illium to shame: two full floors, luxurious study, very large kitchen and dining area, separate bar and lounge, several full guest rooms aside from the master suite. One could imagine raising a large family in that space, or hosting a social gathering of dozens of people. The décor struck me as handsome, not at all in an asari style, but human, masculine, and quite attractive.

Wrex pushed past me, all no-nonsense stance and determined stare. “Someone want to tell me what’s going on here?”

I shook my head and came back to the present crisis. “I have to wonder about those mercenaries. They were heavily armed and using C-Sec shuttles.”

“I don’t know,” said Shepard. “I’ve never seen them before. They don’t behave much like the major players, like the Blue Suns or Eclipse.”

The door cycled again behind us.

“Hardly,” said Vara. “Eclipse in particular would not be _nearly_ so clumsy.”

I turned, and my eyes widened in surprise. _All nine_ of my acolytes had arrived, like a small tidal wave of blue-skinned, black-armored Amazons. With a few gestures, Vara deployed two of them to watch the door, two more to stand in shadows by the enormous windows and watch the Silversun Strip outside. The rest sat down on couches and chairs, out of the way but listening intently.

“Huh,” was Wrex’s only comment. “Who are _these_ people?”

“They’re mine,” I told him.

He eyed me with a glitter of appreciation. “I see I’m not the only one who’s come up in the world.”

“I can’t believe you survived all that,” Brooks jittered, pacing with sheer nerves. “They had guns! And grenades! And those drone things!”

 _“Drone things?”_ I asked.

“Little combat drones that kept zooming up and overloading my shields,” said Shepard. “Nothing too hard to deal with. I just had to stay under cover more than I usually like.”

I frowned. “That’s very good technology, for a mercenary group no one seems to have heard from before.”

Shepard opened his omni-tool. “I’m going to call Commander Bailey. Something must be seriously wrong over at C-Sec, and I want to find out what’s going on.”

“Good idea.” Brooks suddenly gasped, a hand rising to her face. “Wait! If your comms have been hacked, wouldn’t that just make whoever you call another target?”

“That’s true,” I said reluctantly. “Until we know more, it’s a risk.”

Shepard nodded. “Okay. For now, we run this ourselves.”

“Right.” Brooks tried to sound determined, and managed only to sound faintly ridiculous. “Ourselves. On our own. Outside the law. Okay. Yeah.”

“Brooks, gunfire means _something serious is going on_. Do you think you can keep it together long enough for us to figure this out?”

I glanced at Shepard, rather surprised at his stern demeanor toward a fellow officer.

_Does he see something I don’t?_

“They said the medi-gel might make me a bit jumpy.” Brooks glared back at Shepard. “There’s also the fact that I work a desk job and have never been _shot_ before . . .”

“So how _did_ you get mixed up in this?”

Brooks took a deep breath. “I monitor data for Alliance Intelligence, to prevent fraud and hacking of officer IDs. Like someone using an admiral’s pass to get into a nightclub on the Citadel, when that admiral is actually fighting on Tuchanka?”

Shepard nodded, deep in thought.

“I wrote a tracking program. It’s really neat. I named it _Mr. Biscuits_ , after my cat.”

 _“Brooks,”_ growled Shepard.

“Right. Anyway. Mr. Bis – _my program_ detected a breach in your classified files. Soon _everything_ we had on you was compromised: your personnel file, mission reports, everything.”

“Since when does hacking personnel records involve heavy weapons fire?” objected Wrex.

“Well, just think of what criminals could do if they had the Commander’s military access codes. Or Spectre codes, even?”

“I don’t buy it,” said Shepard skeptically. “Spectre security is very tight, and it’s completely separate from the Alliance system. I don’t see how a bunch of mercs could get my Spectre codes, or use them if they got them.”

Wrex shrugged. “Well, it _would_ explain why they need you dead, Shepard. That way there would be nothing to stop them before the damage was done.”

Shepard made a grim chuckle. “Well, it looks as if we’re back on the clock.”

“Don’t worry.” I reached out and touched his shoulder. “We’ll find a quiet evening, just the two of us, once this is finished.”

“I’d like that,” he said with a moment’s smile. “Okay. Any ideas where to start with these guys?”

“Their technology, maybe. You mentioned those drones as something it’s strange for mercs to have.” Wrex pointed to Shepard’s side. “Then there’s that pistol you picked up. For such a tiny thing, it packs a punch. Never saw anything like it before.”

I nodded in excitement. “Nor have I. Let me see if there’s anything I can dig up.”

“Well, you can try,” said Brooks. “But I should warn you, I haven’t come up with anything, and I’ve been digging pretty deep.”

Wrex snorted. “You haven’t been following the news, have you?”

Brooks blinked at him in confusion.

“Anyway, Liara’s on point. What about the rest of the crew?”

“Yeah, what _about_ those slackers?”

Surprised, I glanced to the doors. Joker came walking down the entry hall, unchallenged by the asari guards, leading a whole squad of reinforcements: Ashley, James, Steven Cortez, Garrus, Javik, and EDI’s mobile platform.

“Joker,” Shepard greeted him. “You’ve been busy.”

“Yeah, well. I found some folks who actually _like_ being shot at.”

* * *

Perhaps twenty minutes later, all of us convened in the dining area, _Normandy_ crew crowded close around the table, asari commandos lurking like shadows around the walls.

“We have a lead,” I announced. “I was able to call in some favors and run a trace on the pistol Shepard found. It led me to a casino owner named Elijah Khan. He has contacts with arms manufacturers who supply the Alliance with cutting-edge weapons and equipment. He’s suspected of using his profits to smuggle weapons onto the Citadel. Immediately after the attempt on Shepard’s life, Khan made an interesting call.”

I tapped at my omni-tool and called up the relevant file. All of us heard Khan’s voice: _“I’m cutting you off. You can have your down payment back now.”_

Then a new voice, roughened and distorted, almost certainly belonging to a male human but otherwise impossible to identify: _“What’s the problem?”_

_“Turn on a vidscreen! When I sell a gun, I don’t want it showing up on the nightly news!”_

_“You won’t be linked to me.”_

_“Save it. Our association is terminated. If you even think about coming after me, I’ve got plenty of info on you ready for prime time. You just ponder that. Khan out.”_

Shepard folded his arms and frowned. “So that’s our identity thief.”

“Sounded like he was using an ID disguiser,” said Garrus. “Those things are a pain in the ass to get around. We probably won’t be able to identify him from this.”

“Liara, did you find anything out about those mercs who attacked us?”

“Yes. They’re a private military corporation called _Cat-Six_. They’re quite new, only starting up about four months ago. _Category Six_ is Alliance military terminology for dishonorable discharge. The name seems to have been chosen deliberately. Cat-Six members have a reputation for criminal records, histories of drug abuse, and other charming features. They were clearly hired by the thief, not by Khan, and I suspect access to Khan’s top-shelf product lines was part of the arrangement.”

“That phone call was pretty damning,” said Shepard. “How did you get it?”

I gave him an amused glance. “It involved the weapon’s biometrics data, salarian intelligence reports, and a hanar prostitute with camera implants.”

“Seriously?”

“No, but the truth is boring.” I smiled. “Besides, you know better than to ask me about sources and methods.”

Vara made a small sound, suspiciously like a repressed snort of amusement.

“Point taken,” said Shepard, smiling in turn. “Khan certainly didn’t sound like a friend to our identity thief. Maybe he’d be willing to roll over.”

“That would be a tough sell,” said Garrus. “I’ve heard of this Khan before. Tough bastard. He’ll probably assume you’re coming after him for revenge.”

Wrex nodded. “He’s probably gone to ground anyway, until all this blows over.”

“He may not have gone far,” I pointed out. “In fact, his casino is hosting a charity event this evening to benefit war refugees. He will want to stay on-site, but the establishment does have a secure panic room. That may be the best place to find him.”

“Casinos have _really_ good security,” Garrus objected. “A frontal assault won’t do us any good.”

“Yeah,” agreed Brooks. “If we go in heavy, Khan could disappear, or worse. Or his guards could open fire. People could get shot. Like I did.”

“She’s right,” said Shepard. “We can’t risk spooking him. We go in quiet. Small team, no gunplay.”

“I can provide software to interfere with secure doors and other systems,” said EDI.

“Liara, do you have a layout of the building?”

I nodded, working with my omni-tool some more. A holographic image appeared, taking up most of the surface of the table.

“Score!” said Joker. “So, how close can you get? You don’t normally put a back door in a panic room.”

“There appears to be an air shaft bypassing the security gate and engine up in a storage room _here.”_ EDI gestured, and the pertinent sections of the schematics lit up. “From there, the panic room’s door cameras can be disabled.”

Ashley shook her head. “Too convenient. There have got to be alarms all through that shaft.”

I glanced at Vara, who nodded without hesitation.

“I may be able to provide countermeasures,” I reported. “I’ll know more once we’re inside.”

 _“Rrrh_ ,” muttered Javik. “Who will traverse the shaft? It is quite narrow. It will need to be someone small in size, who does not stand out.”

“Well, on both counts that’s certainly not _me,”_ said Wrex dryly. “Too many snacks of roast varren leg.”

I almost laughed, but then I remembered Wrex being _very_ stealthy on occasion.

Shepard glanced at EDI.

She shook her head. “I cannot participate directly in this mission. My presence would arouse suspicion. Mechs are not permitted inside casinos, since they can carry cheating software.”

“What you need is someone trained in zero-emissions tech. No electronics, no metal. Just undetectable polymers.” Brooks looked around, saw everyone watching her, and immediately broke into nervous logorrhea once more. “We had a course back at Op-Int, disabling a bomb with these little tweezers. See, the bomb casing was filled with shaving cream . . .”

“All right,” said Shepard. “You’re in.”

Her eyes grew very wide. “What? No. _What?”_

“You said it yourself. Most of us couldn’t squeeze into that shaft, and we’ve all got too much tech anyway.”

“But but but – I managed to get myself shot just coming to _talk_ to you! Now I’m supposed to hack my way into a safe room?”

“That’s the plan, Brooks. Get whatever you’re going to need, and be ready.”

“Well, if _that’s_ settled, it appears there’s only one more hurdle before we can get inside,” I said.

“Which is?”

I turned and smiled up at Shepard. “Black tie required.”


	35. Enemies Unmasked

**_24 May 2186, Upper Zakera Ward/Citadel_ **

It took us all of fifteen seconds to realize that our plan would not work.

Our aircar touched down in the landing area outside Khan’s casino. Shepard and I emerged in all our finery: an expensive tuxedo for him, a sheer white gown for me, my obsidian bonding-bracelet very prominent on my wrist as I tucked one arm inside his. Brooks and Nerylla climbed out behind us, the human in a navy-blue dress, the asari in an ankle-length black silk gown that concealed her sidearm.

The crowd outside the casino came _swarming_ the moment they saw us, dozens of cameras pointing in our direction, flashes of light nearly blinding me.

“Uh-oh,” muttered Shepard.

“Smile,” I subvocalized. “I think we just became celebrities.”

We walked up the red carpet. Shepard did his best to look confident and charismatic, while I put on the role of the attractive asari escort, gluing myself to his side and putting just a little hip-sway into my own stride. We smiled all around and tolerated the onslaught of photography. Brooks and Nerylla walked a few paces behind us, the crowd almost ignoring them.

The doors of the casino opened wide. We passed inside. They closed behind us.

Shepard’s face went grim. “Well, our o-plan just went out the window.”

I looked up at him with wide blue eyes. “I’m sorry, Shepard, I should have thought of this.”

“What’s wrong?” asked Brooks nervously.

“Everyone knows who we are, that’s what’s wrong.” Shepard shook his head ruefully. “I bet if we check out the gossip columns, the two of us will show up very high on the top-ten list.”

“Well, _that_ makes sense. The first human Spectre. Savior of the Citadel. Savior of the Council _twice_. Conqueror of the Collectors. The Hero or the Butcher of Bahak, depending on who you talk to. The man who cured the krogan genophage. The greatest living galactic hero . . .”

_“Brooks.”_

“. . . and the Shadow Broker.” She came to an awkward halt. “How are you going to help me inside? Everyone is going to be _watching_ you.”

“Maybe we can use that,” said Shepard. He opened his omni-tool. “Garrus?”

 _“I saw,”_ came the turian’s flanging voice. _“Way ahead of you. If Liara can score a couple more tickets, Vega and I can be there in five minutes.”_

I cocked my head. “What are you thinking, love?”

“Garrus hasn’t caught nearly the degree of attention we have,” he explained. “Even his new position in the turian meritocracy doesn’t mean much to non-turians. Meanwhile, hardly anyone knows James yet. Plan B is that instead of blending in, you and I go in and attract _lots_ of attention, while Garrus and James provide Brooks with whatever support she needs.”

“James isn’t exactly unobtrusive,” I objected.

“Sure, he’s big, but he cleans up pretty well, and he can navigate an affair like this. You’ll see.”

Brooks sighed nervously. “I don’t know how you two can be so calm about all this. Well, you _did_ run directly under a _Reaper_ while it fought the biggest thresher maw in the galaxy, so I suppose none of _this_ is a big deal for you . . .”

Shepard gave her a sharp glance. _“Relax,_ Brooks.”

“Right. Okay. On it.” She nodded decisively. “I’m off to the ventilation shaft. Have your friends link into our net as soon as they get here.”

Shepard smiled at me while Brooks started up the long stairs. “Well, T’Soni, ready to meet the riff-raff?”

I took his arm once more. “Let’s go.”

My bondmate and I ascended into the main hall of the casino, Nerylla gliding along watchfully in our wake.

Rather to my surprise, I enjoyed the next two hours.

* * *

“Mr. Ashland. It’s pleasant to meet you in person at last.”

Jonah Ashland was an aging male human with a fringe of gray-white hair, currently looking very haggard as he peered at me. “Hmm. You’re Liara T’Soni, aren’t you? I bought an intel feed from you, even back before you turned into the Shadow Broker. And the famous Commander Shepard.”

“Enjoying the party, sir?” asked Shepard.

“Only young people party. _I_ am in the process of _drinking_. Ryncol on the rocks tonight.”

“That stuff will put you down for the count.”

“I just lost a _staggering_ amount of income. That puts things in perspective.”

I nodded. “Yes, I’ve seen the figures on how many of your helium-three facilities have been destroyed by the Reapers. Very unfortunate.”

“Pretty fancy night out for someone who’s worried about his financial future,” Shepard observed.

“Oh, I suppose I’ll be fine. It’s not like I’ll need cab fare home. So long as the two of you find a way to _stop_ the Reapers.”

“We’re working on it, sir.”

“I’m sure. In any case, this was my daughter’s idea. Aish has a good heart, although she’s going through a rather, hmm, _self-absorbed_ stage.”

I glanced away, embarrassed on his behalf. “Yes, we met her earlier.”

“Ah, then perhaps I should pass this ryncol over to you.” Ashland looked down into his glass, then shrugged and tossed the remainder of his drink off all at once. “Or not. It doesn’t matter in the long run. I built Eldfell-Ashland up from almost nothing once. I can do it again, assuming any of us survive this. And if we do, I see plenty of reason for hope.”

“Why do you say that, sir?”

“Well, look around.”

All of us did, taking in the crowd on all sides. I happened to see Garrus – for once, out of his armor and in a formal evening suit – mingling with a trio of asari halfway across the hall. Of James I saw no sign.

“Twenty years ago, you would _never_ have seen a shindig like this. Humans and turians socializing together, like that’s nothing at all unusual. Council races showing genuine concern for the fate of batarians. Everybody trying to have sex with the asari . . .”

 _“That’s_ not new,” I pointed out gently.

“Just trying to see if you were still awake,” he said with a sharp-edged smile for me.

“So, all these species together in one room,” mused Shepard.

“Yeah. If we win this, it’s going to be a different galaxy. Maybe a lot better one.”

“We can hope,” I murmured.

* * *

“I’ve heard your advice is so good it’s almost psychic,” said a male human from somewhere behind us. “What’s going to happen to me in the next five minutes?”

“Disappointment,” said a feminine voice. One I recognized.

I turned and stared, pulling at Shepard’s arm to stop his leisurely progress through the crowd.

“Oh. _Hey!”_

“Sha’ira!” I called.

The Consort looked in my direction, and then rose with an expression of delight on her elegant features. “Liara, it is _good_ to see you again.”

The human who had been attempting to “pick up” Sha’ira blinked in surprise, as she hurried over to give me a warm embrace and a kiss.

“Sha’ira,” greeted Shepard. “It’s been a long time.”

The Consort smiled, and then scandalized several dozen watchers by giving _him_ a lingering embrace, and a _much_ more heated kiss than the one she had given me. “My idea of _a long time_ is rather different from yours, Commander Shepard.”

“What can I say? Liara and I have packed a lot of living into the last few years.”

She smiled, holding him at arm’s length to examine him closely. “True. The time has been quite full, for all of us.”

“Do you have any advice for me this time?”

Suddenly the expression on her face became quite still, almost _fanatic_ in its intensity, like nothing I had ever seen from her before.

 _“Win,”_ she said.

Slowly, holding her gaze, he nodded.

Then it was over, her face as serene and her voice as warm as ever. “In the meantime, I have a few moments to spare. Please join me.”

We sat across from Sha’ira in her nook, trying to ignore the dozens of pairs of eyes staring at us from outside. The Consort’s eyes sparkled as she saw me take Shepard’s hand.

“It gives me great pleasure to see the two of you together, and presenting such a superb partnership to the universe,” she said. “When I heard that you were killed, Commander . . .”

He nodded grimly. “Not a good time, even if it did work out well. What about you, Sha’ira? I thought I heard a rumor that you had left the Citadel.”

“I did, for a time. Some so-called _journalists_ fabricated stories about me, and the scandal was such that I could no longer do my work. I turned my salon over to Masarra, my foremost student, and retired to a little colony in the Silean Nebula.”

“Why come back?”

“The war began. I could hardly avoid the heart of the galaxy at a time like this, not because of some scoundrel with a video camera. In any case, many people’s priorities have changed. I am needed here, now more than ever.”

“Did you go back to your old salon?”

Sha’ira shook her head. “No. It would not have been fair to Masarra, who has done well there. I practice my art alone now. It is a simpler existence.”

Shepard nodded. “It’s too bad, in a way. Liara and I have fond memories of your old salon. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Perhaps.” She watched us for a moment. “Without the commitment and love you share, the place would have no merit, and so long as you share those things you have no need of the place. Be sure that the two of you have _my_ love and respect, no matter where life may take you.”

He frowned. “Sha’ira . . .”

“Yes, Commander?”

“You may not want to stay here for long,” he said, leaning forward so he could lower his voice. “I can’t help thinking that the Citadel is a primary target for the Reapers. They’re bound to try to strike here eventually. Sometimes I wonder why they haven’t done it already.”

She shook her head. “Where do you suggest I go, Commander?”

He opened his mouth, found himself staring into her eyes, closed it again.

“You see the problem,” she said, smiling gently at him. “No place in this galaxy is safe. Would you have Liara give up the fight, flee into some dark corner of the universe where the Reapers _might_ not find her for a while?”

He looked at me, his heart in his eyes. “Yes. I would.”

I squeezed his hand gently, knowing what was going through his mind at that moment.

“Would you expect her to listen to you, if you advised her so?”

“No.” He made a wan smile. “She would hardly be the asari I love if she did.”

“Then you see why I can hardly take such advice. You fight with starships, weapons, strategy and tactics. I have other tools, and count victory in other ways. You have your duty, and I have mine.”

 _“Semper fi,_ Sha’ira.” He leaned back, and the mood was broken. “You know, I’ve often wondered. Just how _does_ one become a _hetaira?”_

“By understanding the minds around you, no matter how they strive to conceal or mislead themselves. By displaying compassion in every direction, even when you are tempted to believe it undeserved.” She settled back in her seat, arranging herself like a work of art, her smile gone enigmatic. “And then trying just a little harder, and just a little longer, than anyone who is _not_ a _hetaira_ can possibly imagine.”

* * *

Finally Garrus signaled that Brooks had found a way through all of Khan’s defenses. Shepard and I made our way toward the outer entrance of the panic room. Once we reached the right position, Garrus and James carefully distracted a security guard and disabled a camera. We met Brooks and hurried inside the short entrance corridor before anyone could see us.

The panic room looked like a comfortable study, complete with a fireplace and dark wood paneling on the walls. We paused just inside the inner door, watching Elijah Khan as he sat quietly, his back to us, apparently staring into the flames.

“Khan, we’re not here to threaten you,” said Shepard. “We need to talk.”

The figure did not move, only sat there silhouetted against the firelight.

After a moment I moved forward, put a hand on the back of Khan’s chair, and turned it so he faced the others.

“What the _hell?”_ gasped Brooks.

Khan was clearly dead, shot in the chest at point-blank range with a small-caliber sidearm.

“Well,” I said. “I see _this_ conversation will be strictly one-sided.”

Shepard frowned, glaring from under his brows. At Brooks.

She didn’t see it, hurrying to Khan’s desktop to tap at the computer console. “There’s a deletion order on the terminal.”

“Damn it!” Shepard rushed forward to look for himself.

“Everything’s been wiped,” said Brooks, stepping back to give him access. “I don’t know if it was him, or the killer.” She gasped. “Was it me? Did I screw this up?”

Shepard ignored her, his face set in determination, working with the console.

“What are you looking for?” she asked at last.

“Mistakes,” he growled. A moment more, and then he stepped back with a nod of satisfaction. “Thought so. Whoever did this had to be quick. They wiped the terminal, but not the comm records.”

“Oh! So we can take the comm back to the safe house to scan it, or . . .”

“Or we could do _this,”_ said Shepard, touching a key.

The big screen on the wall behind Khan’s desk came to life. We saw only a blurred, distorted image, but the voice was relatively clean this time, the distortion not nearly as bad.

_“Elijah. Come crawling back?”_

I frowned. The voice sounded _familiar_ somehow. Not so much the pitch or intonation as the rhythm, the choice of words.

Brooks opened her omni-tool, apparently engrossed in some technical task. _She must be tracing the call,_ I realized, and let her do it without interference.

“Guess again,” said Shepard, folding his arms in his unconscious threat-gesture.

 _“You.”_ We couldn’t see facial expression, but the mysterious enemy clearly recognized Shepard, and held him in contempt. _“I see you’ve recovered from flopping on the floor like a fish.”_

“Name a time and a place. Or you _could_ hide behind voice disguisers for the rest of your life.”

 _“You’re trying to rattle me, so I slip up.”_ We could see a movement, as if he was shaking his head. _“You have nothing. All you can do is wait for the hammer to fall.”_

“Bring a bigger hammer. Your last try was _inadequate.”_

The other was silent for a long moment. Then: _“I’m going to take everything you have, and everything you are.”_

Silence. The call had been cut off from the other end.

“Damn it!” exclaimed Brooks. “There wasn’t enough time to trace the call, Commander. I’m sorry.”

Shepard nodded, not paying her much attention. “That’s okay, Brooks. I’m sure you did everything you could. Liara, pull the data drives from Khan’s computer. We’re not finished yet.”

“The ones that got wiped?” Brooks shook her head. “You really think we can find anything?”

“With EDI, anything’s possible. The sooner we get the drives to her, the sooner we can track down this threat.”

* * *

We spent about thirty minutes exfiltrating from the casino, taking multiple aircars back to Admiral Anderson’s apartment so that we would not be too obvious. Shepard slipped Khan’s data drives to Garrus, and ordered Brooks to return to the apartment with him and James. Shepard, Nerylla, and I departed last, climbing into our aircar in another blaze of flash photography.

“Well, that was fun,” I said as soon as our aircar took off. “Although not so much for the host.”

Shepard said nothing, his jaw grimly set.

“What’s the matter, love?”

“Brooks,” he said.

I cocked my head at him, waiting.

“I’m getting a red alert,” he said, tapping at the back of his head. “Right about here.”

“You suspect she’s not to be trusted?”

“You could say that. None of us have ever seen her before. She shows up just as this whole thing is starting. She turns out to be very helpful, making pertinent suggestions at critical moments, all while _looking_ ditzy and useless.” He turned to stare into my eyes. “It’s interesting to notice how many of her suggestions would actually make our investigation harder, rather than easier. Then there’s the way that Khan turned up dead _just_ at that point. Very damned convenient, for someone.”

“Are you suggesting that _Brooks_ killed Khan?” I shook my head. “How? She went in the panic room the same time we did, and he was already dead.”

“Sure about that? We didn’t know she was ready to go in until she called us. What if she had _already_ slipped inside, just long enough to kill Khan and wipe his computer?”

I frowned. “Nerylla, did Brooks have a sidearm?”

“Not that I saw, _despoina.”_

“Maybe she didn’t have one when she left the apartment,” said Shepard, “but she was out of our sight for over two hours. She could have picked one up at the casino.”

I thought hard, but try as I might, I couldn’t come up with anything conclusive to _disprove_ Shepard’s suggestion.

“Just watch her, Liara. That’s all I’m asking.” Shepard faced front again, staring at the brightness of the Citadel’s cityscape as it swept past us. “Watch her.”

* * *

**_25 May 2186, Upper Kithoi Ward/Citadel_ **

Midnight had passed before all of us returned to Admiral Anderson’s apartment. Almost at once, EDI found intact data structures on Khan’s drives. She began to reconstruct several messages between Khan and his mysterious former partner _._ Once she finished, we gathered around the dining room table again to confer.

“Here we go,” said Brooks as the messages began to scroll in a holographic display, hovering above the table. “Wow. Those mercs who are after you? Khan has been selling them weapons. A _lot_ of weapons.”

“Including Atlas mechs,” said Ashley. “What do they need that kind of firepower for?”

“Maybe they’re using this ticket to bootstrap themselves,” suggested Garrus. “I’ve seen things like this before. Some new merc group starts up, looking for a way to escape being limited to small-time security work. They need battlefield-level armaments and logistical support to do that, and those can be pretty damn expensive.”

Shepard nodded. “So Cat-Six provides the muscle, but they need weapons and gear, and they hope to keep all of that when the job is done. Khan can provide weapons and gear, but he insists on being paid. Where does the money come from?”

“That would be our mysterious enemy,” I said. “That faceless individual we’ve been seeing. He’s the key to all this.”

Just then Glyph came soaring into our midst, flashing a red alarm signal and overriding the table’s holodisplay.

 _“Rrrh._ It appears this drone is preparing to rebel,” said Javik.

“What is it, Glyph?” I asked.

_“As you requested, Dr. T’Soni, I have been monitoring Commander Shepard’s personal codes. His Spectre access code has just been used at the Citadel Archives.”_

“Punch it up,” ordered Shepard.

We saw a schematic of the Archives, spread out across the tabletop. Several sectors of the complex shone outlined in red, with more each moment.

“Something’s putting the Archives into lockdown,” said Brooks. “Whoever’s hacking your records must be there right now.”

 _Which suggests you want us to be there right now as well_ , I thought, exchanging a lightning-quick glance with Shepard.

“What do we know about the place?” he asked.

“Council keeps sensitive historical information there,” said Garrus. “Real hush-hush stuff, some of it. Even my old C-Sec clearance never got me into the secured stacks.”

Shepard nodded and turned away. “Then we’ll find our own way in. Gear up and we’ll . . .”

He stopped dead, just three steps away from the table, confronted by an apparition: a tubby little volus, holding out a broad, flat container of some kind.

“Uh, what’s with the volus?”

James cleared his throat. “Oh. Pizza delivery. I didn’t get a chance to eat at the casino, so I got the munchies.”

 _“Double pepperoni,”_ said the volus.

“These Archives are _huge,”_ said Brooks, paying no attention to the possibility of junk food. “You’ll have a lot of ground to cover. Shame you can’t bring everyone.”

Unlike Brooks, I was in a position to see Shepard’s face. I saw the sly smile that crept across his features.

_Yet another helpful-but-not-really suggestion, Brooks?_

“Who says I can’t?” Shepard turned, grinned at all of us. “All hands on deck for this one.”

“Hell yeah!” James smiled, loudly cracking his knuckles. “How you want this set up, Commander?”

Shepard glanced around the room. “Teams of four. Liara and Ash will be with me, plus one of Liara’s people. We’ll set up fire-team Alpha.”

I caught Ashley’s eye and felt an unaccountable rush of excitement.

_The three of us together again, for the first time since we fought Saren on board the Citadel. I think our enemy has reason to fear._

“Garrus, Wrex, EDI, you form fire-team Bravo,” he continued. “James, Javik, Brooks, you’re fire-team Charlie. One more asari commando with each. Joker, Cortez, you’re transport and logistics. Get the aircars ready and let’s saddle up.”

He turned away again. Saw the volus again, still waiting patiently.

“Oh. And somebody pay for the pizza.”

* * *

**_25 May 2186, Citadel Archives, Lower Kithoi Ward/Citadel_ **

“So what’s the best way into the Archives?” asked Shepard.

“The facility is located below the Wards,” said Brooks. “Maybe a direct breach for maximum surprise?”

“I like it,” said Shepard, smiling genially to conceal his thoughts. “Sounds like you’re learning the ropes, Brooks.”

Cortez snorted. “Hell, hang out with _us_ long enough, you’ll learn ropes, knives, bombs, thresher maws . . .”

 _“Don’t hang out too long, or pretty soon you’ll start accumulating extra asari,”_ rumbled Wrex over our tactical link.

“I heard that!” I complained.

We landed in a wide court at the very bottom of Kithoi Ward, tucked away among several industrial storage facilities. Fifteen of us emerged from a small fleet of aircars: six humans, four asari, a turian, a krogan, a Prothean, a synthetic mobile platform, and Glyph.

“The Archives are somewhere below us,” said Brooks, consulting her omni-tool. “It could be pretty tricky to get in there.”

“Not really,” said James, reaching back into his aircar and producing the first of several demolition charges.

Within minutes, we had blasted a great hole in the deck plating.

“Krogan first!” shouted Wrex as he leaped down into the gap. “See you at the party, princesses!”

I moved second, landing right beside the big krogan and earning a gaping smile of approval. Then, for a moment, it seemed to rain leather-clad asari commandos. Finally, the rest of our assault group followed. Once all of us arrived in the access space, Shepard divided us into our planned fire-teams and we began to advance on the Archives.

Vara referred to her omni-tool, where she had loaded a detailed schematic of the Archives complex. “Small antechamber just ahead and below us,” she whispered.

Teams Bravo and Charlie fanned out to either side. Shepard bent down and lifted a plate out of its frame, opening a gap through which he could leap down. I moved right behind him, Ashley and Vara mere seconds behind me. All of us looked around the chamber: an ordinary-looking office space, dominated by a large model of the Citadel itself, hanging from the ceiling.

Then, quite suddenly, we all began to glimmer with spots of ruby light.

I threw myself to one side. “It’s an ambush!”

“Not _this_ again,” Shepard muttered. “Scatter and take cover!”

The chamber filled with gunfire. I peeked out of my concealment and saw black-clad mercenaries flooding into the room. More of the Cat-Six renegades. A _lot_ more.

_They knew we were coming._

“Hah!” barked Wrex from up on his balcony. “In the old days, we usually had at least five minutes before a mission went south!”

Shepard leaned out and fired his Claymore at one of the mercenaries. To little effect, as most of the blast scattered away from a _dense_ kinetic shield.

 _“Shepard brought his whole team!”_ shouted one of the mercenaries.

_“Box them in!”_

I concentrated on staying alive. Our enemies moved quickly to flank us, so I couldn’t count on my cover remaining of any use. Things moved much too fast for me to take stock. I fired my Shuriken and threw biotic warps at black-armored people, trying to sort out the bulky human figures from the lithe asari ones.

Shepard stood and flash-charged across the entire space, smashing into a black-clad sniper. The mercenary recoiled, still standing for a moment, but then Ashley hit her with a concussive shot and took her down.

 _“Eulalalalia!”_ came a high-pitched shriek from the balcony above. Nerylla.

My acolytes proved horribly effective, setting up _lift-warp_ combinations to smash the enemy. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought they even pulled Urdnot Wrex into their rhythm, detonating his biotic feats as well as their own.

_“Damn! They brought asari commandos! Why don’t we have asari commandos?”_

“The same reason you don’t have your own krogan, you pathetic varren,” came a deep roar.

A Cat-Six mercenary screamed as he plummeted off the balcony, landing on the floor before us with a very final _thump_.

 _“Brooks!”_ came Shepard’s voice over the comm. _“You okay?”_

_“Upstairs! Scattering and taking cover!”_

Another flash of blue-white light, as Shepard crossed the battlefield once more and smashed into a shield-carrying foe from behind.

 _“Enough!”_ came a great shout from above.

I glanced upward, and saw a bulky armored human, his forearm clamped around the throat of a smaller figure.

Brooks. He must have captured her in the firefight on the balcony. She struggled in his grasp, to no avail.

Shepard hesitated, just long enough for the enemy to seize their opportunity. They emerged from cover, far too many of them, covering all of us with their rifles.

“Put down your weapons, or this won’t end well for her!” the human shouted.

_Goddess. That voice! Now that it isn’t covered by a distortion device . . ._

“Yeah?” shouted Shepard. “Go ahead.”

 _“What?”_ screamed Brooks.

“Go ahead,” Shepard repeated. “Kill her. That won’t stop me from doing what has to be done.”

Silence from the balcony, except for the woman’s increasingly desperate struggle. I nodded to myself, understanding Shepard’s gambit.

“Of course, I’m betting you won’t do it,” he continued. “Either way, the ball’s in your court. I don’t give a damn, so long as you make up your mind.”

“All right,” said the mysterious figure. He threw Brooks to the ground before him, leveled his assault rifle, and fired a burst at her point-blank.

She shrieked, and then went utterly silent and motionless.

For a moment, I saw terrible doubt in Shepard’s face.

_Were we wrong about Brooks after all?_

“Damn you,” my bondmate said. “I don’t know what you think you’re getting away with, but there’s nowhere you can run, nowhere you can hide that we won’t find you.”

“Hide?” said the enemy, and suddenly I _knew_ where I had heard his voice before. He stepped forward into the light for the first time. “I’m Commander Shepard. I _never_ hide.”

His shape, his face, all of it went with the voice.

It _was_ Shepard. Like a brother. Like an identical twin.

“That’s unexpected,” I said in the sudden silence.


	36. Night in the Stacks

**_25 May 2186, Citadel Archives, Lower Kithoi Ward/Citadel_ **

The enemy leaped down from the balcony, taking up the shock of his landing with easy competence. He stood and strode forward, until he stood _not quite_ within reach of a sudden lunge from Shepard.

The resemblance frightened me. Face and build seemed very close. Even I, intimately familiar with Shepard, had to look closely to spot physical differences: a scar missing, the bridge of the nose a little straighter, beard stubble more closely shaved. The enemy’s armor provided better clues, rougher, bulkier, and accented in blue rather than crimson.

On the other hand, the enemy’s body language and tone of voice seemed _not at all_ alike. He projected arrogance and aggressive violence. Also something else I couldn’t quite identify, a lack of emotional maturity or discipline, almost a kind of _petulance_. Absolutely nothing like my bondmate.

Shepard frowned. “Who are you?”

“Let’s just say you weren’t the only Shepard that Cerberus brought back to life,” said the enemy. “At least one of us will finally _do something_ with it.”

“All right. Where did you come from?”

“The same DNA as you.”

“A _clone?”_ asked Ashley, incredulity in her voice.

“No, that can’t be right,” I corrected her. “Whoever this is, he’s clearly physically mature. Any full-body clone, started when Cerberus gained access to Shepard’s remains, would be little more than an infant now.”

“The blue bitch is right. I’m a _construct_. They cloned my cells from yours, but then they built me on some kind of biomechanical scaffold. In fact, they worked on me first. Trying out the technique, so they could make sureyou came out exactly as required.” He scowled in fierce resentment. “They spared no expense for _you_. I was nothing but a rough draft, as far as they were concerned. Your supply of spare parts. They kept me around in case you needed another arm, or a lung, or a heart.”

“I never knew you existed,” said Shepard. “Where have you been all this time?”

“In storage. The Illusive Man didn’t give a shit about me once he had what he really wanted. Cerberus kept me in a coma, until I woke up about six months ago. While _you_ lounged around in a jail cell, I spent my time learning how to be human. Amazing what one can do in a short time, with enough hard work and bleeding-edge neural implants.”

Shepard nodded. “Well, _this_ has been quite the surprise. Now that I know who you are, we don’t have to work at cross-purposes. Against the Reapers, we have to be on the same team.”

“We’re not even in the same _league,”_ the construct sneered. “I’m you _without_ the flaws. The wear and tear. The doubts, the moral qualms. The attachment to a pack of fools who would never have amounted to anything on their own. I’m the lone wolf you were always meant to be. I’m the one who’s going to go out and beat the Reapers. Something _you_ could never have done.”

“Then why are you trying to kill us?” Ashley demanded.

“Because I don’t have his memories.” The construct turned away, gesturing broadly. “I’d never fool my supposed _friends_. General Williams’s worthless grand-daughter.”

Ashley’s hands balled into fists.

“The asari whore.”

I had seen it coming, and carefully did not react. Vara, on the other hand, narrowed her eyes and gave the construct a glare, promising mayhem at the earliest opportunity.

“The turian who failed at everything he ever turned his hand to. To say nothing of the rest of this motley crew.”

“I am going to tear you apart,” rumbled Wrex from his place up on the balcony. “And then I am going to have you for a _midnight snack.”_

“Brave talk, from a krogan animal that’s on the wrong end of a lot of guns.” The construct turned back to us. “Get rid of all of you, and there’s no one left to say who’s the original.”

“No one will ever believe that _you_ are Shepard,” I said, disgusted.

“They will if I’m flying his ship.” Quick as a striking serpent, the construct lashed out and seized Shepard’s right forearm.

Shepard struggled for a moment, but ceased as soon as he counted how many weapons had been leveled at him. He watched as the construct’s omni-tool flared into life, and then his own.

“There we go,” said the construct, releasing Shepard and backing away to a safe distance once more. “Command codes for _Normandy_. You won’t be needing those any longer.”

“It will be a cold day in hell before anyone steals my ship,” growled Shepard.

“It’s not stealing if I’m you.”

The construct turned away, heading for the door that led deeper into the Archives. Just before he disappeared, he gave one final order to his men.

“Execute them.”

* * *

It’s ironic that in all the months of the Reaper War, I found _that_ one of the worst moments. Somehow, on those occasions when we pitted ourselves against a Reaper – even _Harbinger_ – the danger felt terrifying but somehow not quite real. The Reapers stood so far outside any normal context that one’s mind refused to process them.

Standing with my hands in the air, surrounded by men who had every advantage and already had their rifles pointed at me, _that_ was a threat my mind could compass.

The construct had almost left the room. In moments the door would close behind him, and his men would carry out his orders. I felt tempted to despair.

I might have known better.

From a cold start, not telegraphing the move at all, Shepard made a control gesture. His biotic corona surged out of nowhere and lashed out.

Not at any of the mercenaries. Almost straight up into the air.

He seized the model of the Citadel that hung above us, and _yanked_ on it with all his considerable strength.

With a musical _ping_ , the cables suspending the model came free. The whole thing began to fall, right where Shepard and his captors stood.

The three Cat-Six mercenaries holding him at bay involuntarily glanced upward.

Shepard took that moment to dive for cover.

I did too. I was learning. Ashley and Vara, of course, reacted much faster than I.

The model shattered on the floor with a deafening _crash,_ Shepard’s former captors recoiling in terror, and then everyone moved at once.

Just like that, the room filled with gunfire.

They had us outnumbered. Even so, even though the Cat-Six troopers had acquired advanced weapons and gear, they were hardly elite soldiers. Cast-offs. Drug addicts, discipline problems, and other empty files. Brutish, violent, and generally not very bright. Even I could take on two or three of them. With Shepard, Ashley, Garrus, Javik, and _Wrex_ on our side . . .

“We still got everyone?” called Shepard, as he produced his shotgun and set it for incendiary rounds.

“All on the balcony!” shouted EDI from somewhere above.

“Get to Brooks if you can!”

“Not a problem, Commander.” Perversely, Cortez sounded as if he was enjoying himself. “Just take a moment to deal with these idiots.”

 _“Who are you calling an idiot?”_ shouted one of the mercenaries.

“Hey, if the boot fits . . .”

I stared. Several of the mercenaries had shields, like those of Cerberus _Guardians,_ but built out of hard light instead of ballistic armor. Very difficult to penetrate, even for Shepard’s Claymore. They advanced across the room on Shepard’s position, slowly but inexorably. Fortunately, Shepard and I could disrupt the shields with telekinetic pulls. Still, there were too many of them.

“Garrus!” I called. “We have a small problem here!”

“I see it,” said the turian from whatever position he had found for himself.

A heavy weapon boomed. One of the shield-carrying enemies suddenly snapped back, blood gouting from his helmet. Garrus had put a round directly through the vision slit of the shield.

“On high ground with a sniper rifle,” said Garrus with deep satisfaction. “Just doesn’t get any better than this!”

Shepard caught my eye. He gestured behind us, to a gallery under the balcony where we could put our backs to a wall. I nodded, and we retreated together.

A mercenary stood up from cover less than two meters from us both, leveling his weapon.

This proved to be a mistake. _Wham_ – a telekinetic pull yanked him into the air – _crash!_ – Shepard’s Claymore ripped through his armor and pasted him to the back wall in a great smear of gore.

“Terminating hostiles!” shouted EDI.

“These primitives make good sport!”

“Nothing like a target-rich environment, eh, Prothean?” rumbled Wrex. “Uncle Urdnot is back in town, and he brought the _boom!”_

Shepard and I scurried around the perimeter of the room. I peeked over the railing, saw a shield-bearing mercenary about four meters away, with his back to us as he advanced on Ashley.

_Crash!_

“Like shooting fish in a barrel!” crowed James.

“What did you say, human?”

“Like shooting” – _boom_ – “ _fish”_ – _boom_ – “in a barrel!” A moment’s pause, then: “Ah, never mind.”

“Fewer jokes, human, and more fire down-range.”

“You got _that_ right!”

_“Rapier Squad, orders are to kill the other Shepard’s squad now! No messing around this time!”_

_“But they’ve got a krogan! Why don’t we have a krogan?”_

Deep krogan laughter, like thunder in a deep ravine. “Wouldn’t want to be you, princesses!”

“Shepard, look out!” I warned him.

Shepard spun in his crouch, saw a Cat-Six mercenary creeping up on us. He blurred, vanished, reappeared in the mercenary’s position. The mercenary flew head over heels.

_“I think that turian is Archangel! How are we going to kill him?”_

“You’re not,” said the flanging voice, between sniper rifle shots.

_“Maybe the other Shepard should have stuck around to help!”_

“Hah!” laughed James. “We’ve got ‘em psyched out. Hey, our Shepard is better than yours, _pendejos!”_

I flitted from one piece of cover to the next, laying down fire on a Cat-Six trooper as he tried to stay in cover. “Not to mention better looking!” I shouted, trying to get into the spirit of things.

Suddenly, I realized we had almost run out of mercenaries. Only three or four of them remained, trapped in the center of the space, with fire pouring down on them from the balcony on either side. I flung a singularity into their midst, breaking up their formation, and their kinetic barriers began to melt like wax in a flame.

I will give them one bit of credit. None of them surrendered. They fought to the bitter end.

“We’re clear!” called Ashley. “Now where did the other you go?”

“He’s not another me,” Shepard grated, standing up to take stock of the situation. “He’s nothing like me, despite the physical resemblance. Accept no substitutes.”

“Got it, Skipper. So where did _the bad guy built from your cloned cells who looks almost exactly like you_ go?”

Shepard blinked. “All right, fine. The _other me_ is pushing into the Archives. Stay in your groups and let’s go after him. Team Mako, you’re on point.”

“Who’s Team Mako?” asked Garrus.

“That’s your team,” said Shepard. “The other team is Hammerhead. Anyone find Brooks?”

“She’s not here,” called Cortez. “Pretty spry for a dead woman.”

“She’s not dead,” said Shepard, “but she may end up that way if I catch up with her.”

I cocked my head at him. “You think she’s working with the construct?”

“I’d say that’s all but proven at this point, wouldn’t you?”

I reviewed the evidence in a flash of insight. “I concur.”

Shepard glanced around at all of us. “Okay. _Move out.”_

* * *

I once heard Garrus hold forth on the subject of buildings that he considered “fun to fight through.” Hospitals stood low on his list. Gardens, electronics ships, and antique stores (at least the classy ones) were better.

I never got the chance to ask him how he felt about the Citadel Archives.

Fortunately the place stood empty, a security alert driving the personnel away. We saw no one but the Cat-Six troops, in all that echoing space.

Ashley had to stop for a moment when we first entered the stacks. She stared about her at the ranks upon ranks of archival vaults, each an iridium cylinder designed to store priceless documents and artifacts. “Wow. Big place.”

 _“I am curious as to what the construct is looking for in here,”_ said EDI, over our comm channel. _“Shepard?”_

“At this point, anything’s possible.”

“ _Such as discovering you have a clone,”_ observed Javik slyly.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Shepard in a long-suffering tone.

“At least not until we’ve all had a drink,” I murmured.

“Or two,” agreed Ashley.

We moved out into the stacks, our friends occasionally visible in the distance as they walked along the catwalks, omni-tools flashing as they scanned for signs of the enemy.

“How are we going to find anything in this place?” Ashley wondered.

Shepard stopped for a moment. “Glyph!”

My drone soared up to our level and hovered by his head. “ _Yes, Commander?”_

“Track the target. Give me updates on its location.”

“ _What is the nature of the target?”_

“He looks like me, but his armor has blue highlights instead of red.”

“ _Understood.”_ Glyph soared off into the stacks and vanished almost at once.

Shepard remained quiet for some time after that. When we came across Cat-Six squads, or when one of the other teams came under fire, he spoke to deliver orders and information. Otherwise he behaved like a man chewing on a very difficult thought. I recognized the mood and did my best to be patient, waiting for him to come to a conclusion.

“Everybody listen up,” he said over the comm channel, immediately after we had disposed of another enemy fire-team. “If and when we catch up to the other me, I want every effort made to _capture_ him.”

Ashley turned to stare at him. I confess I did as well.

Then the habit of discipline reasserted itself. Garrus and James acknowledged the order on behalf of their teams, and Ashley, Vara, and I all nodded our concurrence.

“May I ask what you’re thinking, love?” I ventured once we had begun moving once more.

“I’m thinking that we’re fighting a child.”

I cocked my head at him, feeling a sudden rush of delight at the prospect of watching his mind work.

“Think about it, Liara. If his story is true – and it fits what you said about why he can’t be a clone – then he hasn’t been conscious for more than a few months. I wonder how he can function at all. Never mind planning strategies or using technology. It’s a miracle he can even _walk and talk_ like an adult human.”

“Unless he actually does have your memories,” I pointed out.

“I don’t think he does. He would be able to imitate me a lot more closely if he did.” He glanced at me. “Do _you_ have any sense that he’s, well, that he’s _me?”_

“Absolutely not.” I thought about it. “I think you’re right. He doesn’t behave like a mature human male. More like a child in an adult’s body. Maybe a very intelligent child, one who has received a great deal of training, but a child nonetheless.”

“Right. He hasn’t been socialized. He hasn’t had _time.”_

“I’m having a hard time believing what I’m hearing, Skipper.” Ashley shook her head in distaste. “I don’t care if that thing _is_ an enormous baby. It’s still a threat.”

“I’m not saying we have to treat him with kid gloves, Ash.” Shepard shrugged. “We stop him before he gets away with stealing my identity or the _Normandy,_ whatever that takes. But if we _can_ capture him, that’s what I intend to do.”

“He’s your brother,” I said softly. “The one you never had. The one who would probably have been killed on Mindoir, like the rest of your family.”

He spared me a sharp ice-blue stare. “I suppose. Even if I didn’t know what he is, though, I want him alive, and if possible I want to convince him to switch to the right side. I hope I would want that even if he and I didn’t have a chromosome in common.”

* * *

We fought. The challenge ramped up with each engagement, and peaked rather sharply during our encounter with the best Cat-Six had to offer, something called _Razor Squad_. Even with our friends fighting from the catwalks above us, that last combat posed a true workout.

In retrospect, I think the construct was a better strategist than we had given him credit for. Either that or he had the benefit of very good advice. None of us realized that he lured us into a trap. After Razor Squad we began to feel that Cat-Six could not stop us. We pressed forward, overrunning their remaining positions, approaching the construct’s position, feeling confident.

A little too confident.

Our comms suddenly shut down, cutting off all contact with the Mako and Hammerhead teams. Fearing for our friends, we charged forward across another row of inactive archive vaults.

When kinetic barriers snapped into existence around us, trapping us inside one vault, it came as a complete surprise.

“Oh, _this_ can’t be good,” observed Ashley.

“Mako, Hammerhead!” called Shepard. “We’re sealed in!”

“Comms are still jammed,” said Vara flatly.

“Is there an override?” I asked.

“Not seeing one,” said Ashley.

Shepard continued to work with his helmet radio. “Garrus? James? Do you read? Is _anyone_ on this frequency?”

“The short answer,” responded his voice, “is _no_. They’re not.”

All of us turned. The construct emerged from hiding, a smile on his face at the sight of us trapped.

Shepard lost his temper. His Claymore barked, again, a third time. To no avail.

The construct approached us, shaking his head in contempt. “The longer answer involves you and your friends, trapped in iridium vaults and forgotten for – well. Forever.”

“Others know about this,” said Shepard. “About you. The Alliance will stop you.”

The construct smiled. “What you do think, Staff Analyst Brooks? Will _the Alliance_ stop us?”

A female figure appeared, emerging from hiding where the construct had waited for us. Brooks, and yet not Brooks. The awkwardness, the hesitation had gone. She moved like a woman who knew exactly what she was about. She stepped up to the construct, leaned on his shoulder. “I wouldn’t know,” she said, and even her _voice_ had utterly changed. “I don’t actually work for them.”

“All right, then who the hell _are_ you?” Shepard demanded. “And do you really think I won’t track you down?”

“My name doesn’t matter, really. I never keep the same one for more than a few days. Besides, if the Illusive Man hasn’t found me yet, _you_ certainly never will.”

I nodded to myself, a suspicion confirmed. “You’re Cerberus?”

 _“Was,_ actually. Mr. Illusive and I don’t see eye to eye. He’s a ruthless madman, whereas I’m just ruthless.”

“Why not come to me?” Shepard asked. “Liara and I broke away from Cerberus too. We could have worked together.”

“We _have_ worked together, whether you realized it at the time or not. I’m the one who put together all those dossiers for your suicide mission. Not to mention I kept the Illusive Man distracted at a critical juncture, so your little partner could get herself established as the Shadow Broker without undue interference. You might not have been able to get away from Cerberus at all without my help.”

“Then why stab us in the back now?”

“Just because I broke away from Cerberus doesn’t mean I want to crawl in bed with a bunch of _aliens.”_ She cast a sneer in my direction. “Rather literally, in your case. The Illusive Man compromised himself, and so did you. Then I found another you who _hadn’t_ been seduced yet. So I woke him up.”

“So he’s your pawn,” said Shepard in disgust.

I saw it, the flicker in her eyes as she glanced at the construct. _Yes. That is how she thinks of him._

“I’m no one’s pawn, Shepard!” The construct snarled at us. “That’s _your_ mistake, letting others lead you around by the nose. She and I want the same things. We’re allies.”

Shepard frowned. I knew he saw it too, but he also saw no way to apply pressure to that point of weakness. Not yet.

“All we really needed was your Spectre code, and we got that in the Wards,” said not-Brooks. “But then you survived the hit and insisted on bringing your damned asari into it, so I had to tie up loose ends.”

“You killed Khan,” I accused her.

“With great pleasure. But then your sex-bot just had to go and recover the data, after I did my best to erase it. So here we are, forced to contain the situation. Successfully, I see. You _are_ quite thoroughly contained.”

“You had Miranda,” observed the construct. “I have her. Mine has more bite.”

I couldn’t help myself. I smiled slightly, hoping our enemies couldn’t see it.

 _They’ve made some good moves, but if this female thinks she can outmaneuver_ Miranda Lawson, _she may be in for a very bad surprise one day._

“It was fun while it lasted,” not-Brooks simpered.

The construct turned away, stepping over to a network terminal and activating it.

“What are you doing?” asked Shepard.

“Setting things right,” the construct answered, throwing a grin over his shoulder. “You disgust me, Shepard, you truly do. As a Spectre, you’ve saved far more alien lives than you have human. Now here you are, running around, saving krogan and turians and asari. While Earth burns.”

“As far as I can tell, _you_ haven’t saved _anyone.”_ Shepard shook his head. “You’re going to make a _lousy_ me.”

“I guess we’ll get to see, won’t we? You know what they can’t duplicate? Biometrics. Handprints, fingerprints, the pattern of veins on the retina. DNA doesn’t control how those get arranged, so you and I aren’t quite identical after all. Which would normally be a problem, anywhere but here.” He turned back to the console. “Computer, update Council records. Subject: Shepard, human Spectre.”

_“Accessing record. Please input new data.”_

The construct worked with the console for a few moments, presenting his hands, bending over to let a laser read his eyes.

“ _Biometric identifiers updated. Good day, Commander Shepard.”_

“Now if you’ll excuse us, _Normandy_ needs her captain. So . . . _I should go.”_

Shepard scowled.

“Farewell, Commander,” said not-Brooks. “I guess this is where legends go to die.”

The floor shifted under our feet. The construct and Brooks vanished as the archive vault slotted itself into its canister, plunging us into darkness. I almost fell, saving myself only by grabbing a nearby shelf and hanging on while the canister rotated into its storage location.

“That went well,” I murmured once the canister stopped moving.

Shepard’s voice, out of the darkness. “He said, _I should go_. Do I really sound like that?”

I shook my head, forgetting for a moment that he couldn’t see. “Shepard. You _never_ say that.”

He grunted, mollified.

Ashley complained, “Maybe we should be worrying about, I don’t know, the _impregnable vault_ we’ve been sealed inside forever?”

“I should _go,”_ said Shepard. “I _should_ go. _I_ should go! No, it just sounds inane no matter how I say it.”

“There is not likely to be much air in here,” said Vara. “No more than an hour or so.”

“How about _see you around?_ No, that just makes me sound like a country hick.”

“Well, you _were_ raised on a farming colony,” I pointed out.

“Shepard!” Ashley broke in. “We’re in kind of a situation here!”

“Hmm? Oh, right.” Shepard raised his voice. “Glyph, are you still out there?”

The drone responded over our comms at once. _“Yes, Commander.”_

“Good. Unlock this damned thing and go find the others. No one steals my ship. Not even me.”


	37. Defeat and Victory

**_25 May 2186, Lower Kithoi Ward/Citadel_ **

Shepard and I emerged from the Archives last of all. As he bent down to help me climb the last meter, I heard the low rumble of a single aircar on the approach. It landed a few meters away, the clamshell popped open, and Joker peered out at all of us.

“I’ve got room for Shepard plus two,” he said. “And figure it out fast, because the other Shepard is _stealing my ship!”_

“Whose ship, Joker?” Shepard inquired mildly.

“All right, _fine_ , it’s _our_ ship, _and the other you is stealing it_. You mind exercising some of that famous decisiveness?”

“Ash, Liara, you’re with me. The rest of you get there as fast as you can.” Shepard turned, scanned the rest of our group as they all stared back at him. “What?”

 _“I_ wanted to go,” said Wrex, sounding somehow _plaintive_.

“As did I,” said EDI. “It seems I am rarely chosen.”

“Joker will come back for you. I promise.”

 _“Despoina?”_ asked Vara quietly.

“The same goes for you and the other acolytes,” I told her. “I’ll be safe enough with Shepard and Ashley. I want some of you to go to Councilor Tevos, and warn her of what is happening. The rest may come as soon as the _Normandy_ crew can find more transportation.”

She nodded, unhappy but obedient.

The three of us piled into the aircar with Joker, who immediately closed the clamshell and hurled us into the Citadel’s sky.

“See, this is why I hate shore leave,” he complained. “I swear, you park the ship for five minutes!”

Shepard nodded. “I know Liara’s people are heading for the Council, but can you contact Citadel flight control and have them deny the departure request?”

“Already tried. All the comm lines in the area are jammed. Probably to make it easier for them to _steal my ship!”_

“You’re having pronoun trouble again.” Shepard shrugged. “Don’t worry. We’ll stop them.”

“If we lose _Normandy_ , we can still go to the Council and prove who you are,” I told him.

“Even with the biometric data overwritten?” Ashley shook her head. “If they do a scan, the real Shepard won’t match any more.”

“That won’t matter. If we can capture the construct, less than ten minutes’ examination will reveal which one of them has the original Shepard’s memories. Not to mention that C-Sec will be able to reconstruct what happened in the Archives this evening if they have time to investigate.”

“I hope you’re right, Liara.”

“All of which will be a lot easier if we can keep the construct from getting away with _Normandy.”_ Shepard leaned forward in his seat, staring out the front windows. “So _step on it_ , Joker.”

“Consider it stepped on,” said the pilot. The aircar accelerated well past its usual safe speed, red lights flashing on the control panel as the Citadel’s traffic control systems complained.

Soon we reached the Presidium’s docking ring, rows of ships stretching out before us in Widow’s blue-white light.

“There!” Ashley called, pointing.

I breathed a momentary sigh of relief. _Normandy_ still rested in her docking cradle.

“Warning lights are on,” muttered Joker. “They’re only a few minutes from takeoff.”

“How close can you get us?” asked Shepard.

“Not much closer. Citadel systems are already targeting the car. I can put you down right about _there_.”

He fitted deed to word, bringing the aircar in to a very hasty landing, on a stage about fifty meters from the ship. The clamshell opened once more, and the three of us leaped out.

“Get back and pick up the others ASAP,” Shepard ordered. “Maybe see if you can free up a shuttle.”

“Right,” agreed Joker. “They can’t have gotten far. Unless they called a cab or something.”

Then he was away, and the three of us hurried toward _Normandy_.

At first we found no opposition, and I dared to hope that we might reach the ship without having to fight. No such good luck. The construct had left two squads of Cat-Six mercenaries behind as rear-guard, while he prepared _Normandy_ for departure.

_“Damn it, they’re trying for the ship!”_

_“I thought they were all supposed to be dead!”_

It proved a mildly dangerous fight. The landing stages and service platforms seemed broad enough, but only narrow catwalks connected them, and anyone who went over a railing would have a _long_ way to fall. Shepard, Ashley, and I advanced as quickly as possible, moving from cover to cover, trying to clear Cat-Six away from each catwalk before we moved to cross it.

_“The real Shepard is here! Send a warning to the ship!”_

_“We can’t. Comms are jammed, remember?”_

_“Damn it!”_

Shepard felt reluctant to use a full flash-charge, but he and I still got plenty of use out of our biotics, yanking hard-light shields away from their owners, knocking mercenaries off the platforms. Shepard’s Claymore, set for incendiary rounds, was also horribly effective in those close quarters. All he had to do was catch a mercenary off guard, and a single blast would hurl the foe back several meters, mortally wounded and _on fire_.

Fortunately, the mercenaries never quite managed to concentrate their forces against us. Ashley went down once under their gunfire, but she returned to the fight after applying medi-gel. Shepard and I took minor cuts and abrasions, nothing more. After a few minutes, we punched through the last Cat-Six line and reached _Normandy_ ’s docking cradle.

Just in time to see the ship begin trembling in place, its engines roaring as they prepared for maximum power.

“We have to hurry!” I shouted. “They’re getting ready to take off!”

Shepard spat in disgust. “When _we_ want to take off, there’s always half an hour of pre-flight checks! _They_ get to just gun the engine and go?”

“Engineer Adams and his team keep the engines in fine condition. Most of the checks are unnecessary.”

“Good to know!”

We hurried up the ramp toward the secondary airlock.

“I didn’t come this far just to stand on the dock and watch _Normandy_ leave,” Shepard muttered, but it seemed we might well be too late. The engines stepped up once more as he opened the outer doors and led us into the last passageway.

Samantha Traynor stood there, staring at the inner doors, rigid with confused anger.

“My God, I don’t even have . . .”

She turned at the sound of our footsteps.

“Wait, _what?”_ She stared at Shepard. “You! You were just on _Normandy_! And you _fired_ me! Dishonorable discharge! For conduct unbecoming! You kicked me off the ship! With barely enough time to grab my toothbrush!”

Shepard stopped dead, his eyes wide.

_He must never have seen Samantha in full-rant mode before. Normally she’s so deferential._

I sighed, stepped forward, and seized her. One hand behind her neck, the other along her jaw. Then I kissed her. Quickly, but quite thoroughly.

It worked. She stared at me with wide brown eyes, utterly silent. Shepard and Ashley stared as well.

“This is the real Shepard,” I told her firmly. “The one you saw was an impostor, a biological construct created by Cerberus.”

“Oh.” _Blink-blink-blink._ “Oh dear.”

“I can explain more later,” said Shepard, recovering his composure. “For now, we have to get on board and stop him.”

Just as he reached the inner doors, the control panel flashed red. Lock-down.

“Damn it.” He turned to Samantha. “Is there _anyone_ left on board who can help us?”

“No. I was only there to advise the refit crew, because I helped with the retrofits back on Earth. Everyone else is on shore leave, and EDI’s mainframe is offline.”

“Okay. _You_ know this ship inside and out. Can you get me on board?”

She thought for a split second, and then nodded, moving to one side of the inner doors. She bent down and began to pull up some of the deck plating. “There’s an emergency exit hatch for evacuations. It should be _here.”_

Shepard bent down to examine the hatch, opening his omni-tool for a scan. “Hmm. Manual lock, and it’s designed to be opened only from the other side. Ideas?”

“A biotic effect could pop the lock,” I suggested, “but it would require extremely fine control. I don’t know if either of us can manage it, if we can’t see the mechanism.”

We stared at the last obstacle, out of ideas.

_Bzzzzzz . . ._

I glanced over my shoulder.

Samantha stood there. Holding her toothbrush.

The one that applied tiny mass effect fields to massage her gums and break up plaque.

 

**_25 May 2186, Citadel Traffic-Control Envelope_ **

“You know, if you’d told me last night that a toothbrush was going to save _Normandy_ , I would have been _very_ skeptical.”

On board the ship, we crawled along, back from the cockpit toward the CIC. _Under_ the deck.

We found it a very tight space. I realized I felt considerable distress. Especially when the ship finally detached from its docking clamps, backed away from the Presidium ring, then turned end-for-end to prepare for the run to deep space.

_Goddess. The space isn’t going to collapse on me. Is it?_

“Pretty sure we broke it getting the hatch open,” Shepard continued. “Remind me to reimburse her for that.”

“Assuming we get the chance,” said Ashley.

I concentrated on keeping my stomach under control.

“Liara? You okay?”

“I’m sorry. Ever since Therum, I haven’t been good with confined spaces.”

“The Shadow Broker has _claustrophobia?”_ Ashley murmured, throwing me a wicked grin.

“Yes,” I admitted in a pained whisper.

“Noted and logged. Anyway, what was that thing with Traynor?” she teased.

“It was the only way I could think of to break her chain of thought, without engaging in a long argument.”

“It certainly worked,” said Shepard, creeping forward. “Now _quiet_. Last thing we need is any of those mercs up top hearing us.”

We moved forward, all of us careful to make no sound.

Shepard reached the end of our crawlway, poising himself beside a large control that would swing the deck plating up. He caught our eyes. Ashley and I nodded in tense agreement.

 _One,_ he mouthed silently. _Two. Three._

He activated the control.

We leaped out into the CIC, in the middle of a Cat-Six squad.

In any combat situation, surprise is a _priceless_ commodity.

Ashley broke left, laying down fire from her assault rifle. I broke right, bowling two mercenaries over with a telekinetic surge. Shepard flash-charged down the middle, appearing behind the galaxy map and detonating his barriers in a violent nova-blast.

They went down like toppled pillars. Before long we had only a single heavy trooper to deal with, who moved from cover to cover and avoided our attacks with unexpected skill. Ashley and I lay down fire and threw biotic feats, holding his attention, but we couldn’t quite get to a useful vantage point.

The mercenary rose from cover, hammered at us with his rifle. Then he noticed both of us looking _behind_ him.

He turned.

The last thing he saw was the bore of Shepard’s shotgun.

“What a mess,” said my bondmate, disgusted.

“Well then, you shouldn’t have blown his head off,” Ashley suggested.

“That’s not what I mean. It’s going to take _days_ for us to put all this crap back where it belongs.” He looked around, taking in the crates and bins of miscellaneous equipment scattered everywhere. “Hey, some of this is mine. He’s moving stuff out of _my cabin.”_

“ _Our_ cabin,” I pointed out. I reached into a bin, past two of his starship models, and pulled out a crumpled and oil-stained confection of white lace. “All right. Now this is _personal.”_

“Easy, T’Soni. Where did he go?”

Ashley scanned the lift controls with her omni-tool. “Looks like he went down to the armory just a few moments ago. Probably figured out we were coming, wanted to get ready for us.”

We strode into the lift.

“Are you ready?” I asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Ashley answered. “You?”

“I suppose. It’s funny. I was just thinking. The three of us, we couldn’t save the last _Normandy.”_

“This guy is _not_ in the same league as the Collectors,” Ashley stated flatly.

“True.” I gave them both a determined smile. “We’re not going to lose this one.”

“Damn right we’re not,” said Shepard.

The lift door opened. We stepped out onto the staging deck.

_No sign of the enemy. Where did they go?_

Shepard moved forward, slowly, his senses at their limit. Ashley and I followed, watching our quarters to either side.

Movement. A bulky figure stepped out from behind a stack of crates.

The construct. Looking _exactly_ like Shepard, now that he had a weapon in his hands and a determined expression on his face.

We fanned out to face the enemy.

“Well, _that’s_ a little creepy,” said Shepard.

The construct raised his weapon – a Claymore, twin to Shepard’s own – and fired. We dove for cover and returned fire.

“You want to stop shooting up my ship?” he shouted.

“Everybody with the pronoun errors,” Shepard muttered. “It’s _not_ your ship!”

“It will be. I’ve taken your name, your Spectre rank, even your biometrics! You’ve got nothing left!”

I moved up beside Shepard behind the armory console, exchanged a glance with him.

He moved out into the open. “Right. Then you left me to die. Except I didn’t.”

Silence. No movement, out among the stacks of equipment and supplies.

“Do you really think a few fake fingerprints are going to fool the Council? Or Hackett?”

He stepped around the corner of a pallet of ammunition, covering the space behind it with his weapon. Nothing.

“You know, if you haven’t had time to build a life for yourself yet, the thing to do is to get to work. Not to try to steal someone else’s life and pretend it’s yours.”

Something fell to the deck, further out in the silent space. Shepard didn’t turn, focused on the area in front of him. I saw Ashley crane her neck to look toward the sound.

“I imagine Brooks didn’t tell you that. She doesn’t want you thinking along those lines. You’re a more useful tool for her this way.”

Then I saw the construct, leaping out of cover with a blazing blue-white corona around his arms and shoulders. I couldn’t shout a warning in time.

I didn’t have to. Shepard turned like a predator at bay, his own corona surging into existence, and the center of the staging bay came alive with blinding light and electrostatic discharges. They shoved at each other for a moment, body and mind, while Ashley and I jumped out of cover to assist.

_Crash – crash!_

Brooks appeared, firing a shotgun of her own at close range. Shepard broke contact with the construct, falling back a few steps as his barriers and shields took the blow.

“Hatchet Squad to the staging bay,” she shouted. _“Now!”_

Shepard had barely a moment to drop behind cover, before Cat-Six troopers began to rain down from the engineering deck above. Then the construct flash-charged over to slam into Shepard, setting off a nova-blast of his own.

My bondmate’s position became the locus of apocalypse.

It was wild and terrible. Shepard and his false twin cast aside every possible restraint. They snarled and shouted, pounded at one another with shotgun blasts, incendiary grenades, flash-charges, biotic shockwaves. Flames rippled and bled from their biotic barriers, their kinetic shields. Blows landed that would have shattered every bone in my body, only to be shrugged off like love-taps. Their battle filled the staging bay with light and echoing thunder.

For a moment, I found myself next to Ashley, both of us staring at the fight with wide eyes. A flash of inspiration struck, and I knew what I had to do.

“Ash. Keep Cat-Six from helping the construct.”

“What are you going to do?”

I checked the indicators on my Shuriken. “I’m going to go find Brooks.”

She gave me a predatory grin, and nodded.

I slipped away silently, trying to imitate every huntress who had ever tried to beat commando skills into my unwilling head.

Cover to cover. Silent. Breathing slow and disciplined. Senses extended to their maximum, searching for signs of life beneath the maelstrom of unleashed power in the center of the staging bay.

_“Hey, Loco. You copy?”_

_“Skipper’s a little busy right now, James.”_ Ashley’s voice on the comms. _“What do you need?”_

I sensed a Cat-Six trooper just around a corner. Not Brooks, unfortunately. I slipped around behind her, reached out with a biotic corona blazing around my arms and hands, seized her head and shoulder. Snapped her neck. Pulled her down into cover before anyone else could notice.

 _“We cut through the jamming,”_ said Garrus. _“Picked up a few more scars in the process.”_

 _“Commander, the ship’s prepping for a jump to FTL,”_ said Cortez.

There: a slim dark-skinned figure in blue-and-black armor, keeping under cover, trying to locate her enemies.

She hadn’t seen me yet. I felt my lips curve in a wicked smile.

 _“Any chance you can get to the cockpit?”_ Joker complained. _“Like, soon?”_

_“Doesn’t seem likely, guys. We’re tied up in the staging bay right now.”_

_“Roger that, Commander,”_ said Cortez. _“We’ll proceed with Plan B.”_

I had just a moment to wonder what _Plan B_ might be. Then _Normandy_ lurched violently to the side. I lost my balance, crashing into a stack of crates.

Fortunately the movement took Brooks just as badly off-guard. She lost her footing as well, taking three uncontrolled steps out into the open.

I snarled, got my feet under me, and _sprinted_. A hail of gunfire from my Shuriken preceded me, tearing at her shields. Then I had the instant’s satisfaction of seeing her eyes go wide, just before my right fist landed across her jawline. A biotic surge gave the blow extra weight. She staggered backwards, her shotgun flying Goddess-knows where.

“I’ve already lost Shepard once,” I screamed while I advanced on her. “I will be _damned_ if I lose him again!”

She surprised me. What appeared a graceless stumble turned out to be setup for a very graceful – and very effective – spin-kick. Without my barriers she might have knocked me cold. As it was, I saw stars for a moment and had to fall back in turn.

_Boom – boom. Boom – boom. Boom – boom._

_Normandy_ was _firing_ on something.

Then I had no more time. Brooks may have lost her shotgun, but she was herself a weapon. Her fists and feet moved in graceful arcs, belying the force behind them. I had to call up all my _cheironomia_ training to keep her at bay. I became water, all form and movement, deflecting her blows and trying to pull her off-balance. Not even my biotics gave me an advantage. She had some kind of kinetic weapon built into the palm of her right gauntlet, rather like the one Kai Leng had used. At one point I barely ducked in time to avoid having my head blown off.

Then, as if the situation had not become sufficiently insane, _the bay door opened and the shuttle launched._

Brooks hesitated for just a moment, glancing over her shoulder as the shuttle flew out into the Citadel’s sky.

For once, I did not miss an opportunity. I took two steps forward, shouting at the top of my lungs.

_“Ai!”_

My corona blazed bright as a star. I think my biotics peaked almost as high in that moment as they had on Rayingri, three years before. The occasion when I had pulled a kiloton of debris down on a platoon of geth.

My throw struck Brooks mid-center and flung her across the staging bay, right through the space the shuttle had occupied an instant before. She hit the far wall of the bay with a solid _crunch_ , slid down and did not move.

I looked around.

My heart stopped.

Shepard charged the construct on foot. He tackled his false twin around the waist. Both of them went over backward.

Onto the open bay door.

The two men rolled over and over, grappling, tearing at each other, coming rapidly closer to the abyss.

_“Shepard!”_

On the very verge, Shepard got the upper hand. He rose over the construct, struck him in the face with a fist like a mailed sledgehammer. Then again.

The construct grunted, got a leg under Shepard. Shoved him away.

The ship lurched. Both of them fell.

Over the edge.

Somehow both of them managed to hold on, dangling over a kilometer of empty space.

“Look at you,” snarled the construct. “What makes _you_ so damned special?”

I ran, vaulted the safety railing. Out of nowhere Ashley appeared, no more than two steps behind me.

“Why you, and not me?” the construct demanded.

I hurled myself down to snatch at Shepard’s arm, an instant before he could slip.

“I’ve got you!” shouted Ashley, seizing my ankle and anchoring me to the bay door.

Between natural strength and biotics, we managed to pull Shepard back from the abyss.

I happened to look back up into the ship. Saw Brooks standing there, looking battered but functional. She stared down at the four of us, at her ally still in mortal peril.

I saw the moment her face changed. The moment her essential cowardice won out. She turned away.

“Thanks,” said Shepard, climbing to his knees, then his feet.

Then he turned to the construct.

For an instant, they locked eyes, crystal-blue against crystal-blue. For once I saw something new on the construct’s face. _Uncertainty._

Shepard stepped over, _much_ too close to the edge, causing my heart to skip a beat once more. He bent down, extended his hand.

“Come on,” he said.

The construct looked up into his face. “And then?”

“And then you live.”

“For what?” the construct asked, nothing but weary bitterness left in his voice.

He leaned back and let go with both arms.

Someone screamed: _“No!”_

Blue-white light lashed out, caught the construct, _held_ him in mid-air.

I didn’t even realize I had made the decision until it was already done.

Another control gesture, and the construct flew back above the edge of the bay doors, his eyes wide, his arms and legs flailing. He flew in a great arc that ended somewhere back in the staging bay, where he landed with a great _crash_.

I fell to my knees, utterly spent. I might have fallen myself if Ashley and Shepard had not been there to grab me.

 

“Fortunately, they weren’t here long enough to do much real damage,” said Cortez. “We might get an extra day or two tacked on to the end of our shore leave.”

“I’d say they owe us that much.” Ashley stretched, easing fatigue out of her arms and shoulders. “Damn. We’ve been up and running for almost twenty-four hours straight. Ever since we came in to the Citadel and had to save the Shadow Broker’s ass from jail.”

I gave her a sharp glance, but saw her warm smile. I reached out and patted her on the shoulder, thanking her without words.

“I suppose I’ll need some help from James cleaning up the damage to the staging bay.” Cortez shrugged. “Plus they overloaded the heat diffusion systems, firing at us.”

“Yeah,” said Joker. “Don’t know if you noticed, but Shuttle Guy here did some crazy stunt flying to keep all of us in one piece.”

“Good work out there, both of you,” said Shepard.

“Hmm. Think I’ll get myself a new ball cap. With _Designated Bait_ embroidered on the front.”

Cortez only smiled.

“What about EDI?” asked Shepard. “Is she back online?”

“ _I am once again fully in control of_ Normandy,” came EDI’s voice over the comm.

“Glad to hear it. What about the mercs? Any survivors?”

“Just one crappy-ass pilot,” said Joker, “and _them.”_

Brooks, at least, could move under her own power. She stood with her hands shackled behind her back, a burly Marine grasping each arm, a third standing watchfully behind her.

“Alliance is taking her to a high-security facility,” Joker explained. “Maybe she can give them some dirt on Cerberus.”

Brooks looked at Shepard from under her lashes, false coyness and real contempt on her face. “I’ll be _happy_ to cooperate with the authorities.”

Shepard went grim. “Maya, I know that voice.”

“Do you? Do you _really?”_

“You’re getting a chance to redeem yourself. _Don’t waste it.”_

“So serious,” she purred, mocking him. “Admit it. You kind of liked having _Staff Analyst Brooks_ around. Looking up to the legend?”

He turned away in disgust.

“We had some laughs. And who knows, maybe one day we’ll have some more. You _know_ you’ll miss me.”

“No. I won’t.” He turned back and stepped into her personal space. “Because you are going to stay in your cell, help the Alliance, and do your time.”

“What, afraid I’ll escape?” Her voice had gone very flat and cold. “Worried I’ll come back and take my revenge? Is this the great Commander Shepard, pleading for his life?”

“I’m pleading for _yours,”_ he said quietly.

That got through. Her face changed, the contempt and mockery bleeding away to leave nothing behind but quiet calm.

“So thoughtful,” she murmured. “Then I suppose it’s off to lockup.”

Shepard nodded and returned to us.

“You know, _he_ wouldn’t have let me live.”

My bondmate nodded, his eyes hooded and dark. “I guess you can’t clone everything.”

Then Brooks was gone, and we walked over to the other prisoner.

The construct lay on a stretcher, barely conscious, somehow looking much smaller with his armor and gear stripped away. _Five_ Marines guarded him, although in his case their major task was to watch over the medic treating his injuries. Between Shepard’s battering and my final biotic throw, we had given him a long list of bruises, contusions, sprained joints and fractured bones.

“What about him?” asked Shepard quietly.

“The same,” answered Joker. “Although Hackett is going to argue that he’s not responsible for most of what they did. Diminished capacity, on account of he’s about six months old and shouldn’t even be out of diapers yet.”

“I’ll back that,” said Shepard, and turned away.

I nearly followed him, until I heard a hoarse whisper from the stretcher. The construct was awake after all.

“Liara. Why?”

I gave him a very cold stare. “Why did I save your life?”

He swallowed in a dry throat, and nodded slightly.

“It wasn’t because I thought you deserved it. I just didn’t want you to escape responsibility for what you’ve done quite so easily.” Then I softened my tone. “Also, I suppose I want you to get the chance to build a better life. One that can be your own, not stolen from Shepard, or designed for you by someone like Brooks.”

He nodded again, closed his eyes as if he could no longer bear the sight of me, and turned his face away.

_No thanks? Well, I suppose I should not have expected any._

I turned my back on the construct, and went to find my bondmate.


	38. A Moment's Peace

**_25 May 2186, Silversun Strip, Kithoi Ward/Citadel_ **

I heard bare feet padding down the stairs out in the main hall, and then in the kitchen. I smiled to myself.

“Good morning,” said Shepard.

“It’s afternoon, actually, but who’s counting?” I glanced over my shoulder and saw Shepard wearing a pair of white briefs, a muzzy expression, and not much else. “I hope I didn’t wake you too early.”

He stepped up and wrapped his arms around me from behind, his hands slipping under my silk tunic, pulling me close for a moment to nuzzle my cheek. I gave him a gentle head-butt, then squirmed away to attend to my cooking.

“Hmm,” he rumbled. “No, it’s true, I need more sleep, but after the last thirty-six hours what I _really_ need is to get myself back on something like the _Normandy_ schedule. So right now it’s time for me to get up and move around for a while. Besides, I could smell food.”

“Yes. I don’t know about you, but I’m _starving_. So here we have ranch breakfast _à la_ T’Soni. Scrambled eggs with cheese, ham steaks, Portobello mushrooms, fried potatoes, biscuits with sausage gravy, and all the orange juice you can drink. I even made a pot of coffee, just for you because _I_ certainly won’t touch it. Every last morsel is real food from the human agricultural colonies, shipped in despite the Reapers. You would not _believe_ how much it all cost.”

Shepard’s stomach rumbled, loud enough to be heard over the cooking noise. He grinned. “Have I told you recently that I’m madly in love with you?”

“You only say that because I feed you.”

“That’s actually a pretty good reason. What makes it _à la_ T’Soni?”

“It’s cooked by a nearly naked asari chef.”

“Can’t argue with that. Hand me a plate.”

We divided up the food, put it on trays, and carried it out into the living room.

Shepard stopped cold for a moment, for the first time noticing Nerylla at her post by the front door, and Kyriake keeping watch out the windows overlooking the Silversun Strip. Neither of them so much as glanced in his direction. He shook his head slightly and continued on into the room. Then he sprawled on the couch, apparently completely at ease, and began to surround his breakfast.

I sat down close beside him and began to eat, not _quite_ as ravenously. I didn’t have the same body mass to maintain.

“I’m beginning to think I should have gotten dressed before I came downstairs,” he muttered to me after a few moments.

“Don’t be concerned about it, love.” I smiled at him. “You’re forgetting that asari don’t have the same nudity taboos as humans. Even if we did, it wouldn’t matter. An acolyte on protection detail is expected to have only one thing in mind: keeping her principal safe. So long is it doesn’t interfere with her duty, nothing her principal does is any of her concern.”

“It still feels strange. I’ve never had _bodyguards_ before.”

“Shepard, you and I could set this food aside and make love right here on the couch, and Nerylla and Kyriake would do their best to take no notice.” I gave him a very serious stare. “In fact . . .”

“Don’t even _think_ about it,” he growled after a moment’s stunned disbelief. “Didn’t realize you were that much of an exhibitionist, T’Soni.”

“I’m not,” I told him, smiling and turning back to my food. “Although I _did_ have you going there for a moment.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you did.” He took a deep sip of coffee to restore his nerves. “So. We appear to have the next couple of days off while the yard dogs put _Normandy_ back into fighting trim. Which constitutes the first real vacation either of us has had in almost eight months. What would you like to do?”

I sighed. “To be honest, I hadn’t really given it any thought. I think I’ve lost the habit of leisure.”

“Well, before all that crap happened last night, Joker and I had a chance to check out the Strip. There’s quite an entertainment district just a few minutes from here by pedway. Another casino, a theater, a gaming arcade, several bars and lounges, a combat simulator . . .”

I stared at him, startled. “There’s an Armax arena here?”

“There certainly is.” He watched me for a moment. “I didn’t think you would be interested in anything like that.”

“Oh yes. I was an enormous skyball fanatic when I was younger, and I always followed the arena leagues as well. Competitive combat sims are very popular on Thessia, ever since the turians introduced the sport. Every city-state sponsors its best huntress teams to compete.”

“Well. After we eat, maybe we should get cleaned up and walk down the Strip. Take in a few matches.”

“That sounds like fun.” I glanced over my shoulder toward the apartment’s front door. “Nerylla, Shepard and I are going to go visit the arena. Would you contact Vara and have a detail ready?”

“Yes, _despoina.”_

Shepard cocked an eyebrow at me. “T’Soni, are we going to be bringing your acolytes along on dates now?”

“I’m afraid so. Serves you right for marrying the Shadow Broker.”

“I don’t know. Walking along with one sexy, dangerous asari on my arm and three more following me? Good for my ego.”

I snorted. “As if your ego needs any more reinforcement, oh Mighty Galactic Hero.”

We laughed together, and then turned our attention back to our breakfast.

* * *

It _was_ fun, walking with Shepard down one of the Citadel’s busiest streets.

Many stopped to stare at us, of course. Shepard’s face had been famous throughout the galaxy ever since the final battle against _Sovereign_ , almost exactly three years before. At that point the public did not yet recognize me so often, but every news channel in Citadel space _had_ broadcast my face the previous day. On the street, very few people had any trouble deducing who we were. We might have been mobbed by the curious and the celebrity-mad, had my acolytes not stayed close by. Vara, Nerylla, and Tania kept strangers at a polite distance through their mere presence, although many people activated omni-tools or personal datapads, taking pictures as our party moved past.

At first, it felt very strange. My heart beat with nervous speed, until I grew accustomed to being the focus of attention. Shepard helped a great deal, walking tall and strong at my side, taking no notice of the stares, keeping up his end of our idle conversation. It also helped that I saw no overt reactions of anger or hostility. The Citadel’s citizens seemed willing to accept our presence among them.

We arrived at the Armax arena. Shepard paid for a sheaf of tickets, and then the five of us climbed a broad staircase up to the audience’s gallery. There too the audience noticed us, but most of them seemed too wrapped up in their entertainment to pay much attention. We moved down into an expensive private box, my acolytes posting themselves to watch the approaches. I sat next to Shepard, excited, and opened my omni-tool to query the schedule.

“Wait, _what?”_ I blinked in astonishment. _“Barla Von_ has a team?”

Shepard looked at his own omni-tool and chuckled. “Check out his stats, Liara. That volus is _very_ bad news in the arena.”

“Goddess. I had no idea.”

“He must put some of that money you pay him into bleeding-edge gear.”

Just then the lights began to dim. I leaned on Shepard’s shoulder and took one of his hands as a volus and two turians ventured out into the arena. The announcer spoke and the combatants fanned out. As the cheers of the crowd rose to a crescendo, a squad of holographic Cerberus troopers materialized down on the floor.

My eyes went wide.

 _“Yes!”_ crowed Shepard. “Perfect crossfire!”

Even with reinforcements to replace the fallen, the holograms went down like grain before the scythe. The turians proved deadly enough, covering Barla Von’s flanks, but the volus was _magnificent_. He spun like an enormous top, flinging gunfire and overload charges to all sides as he moved through the heart of the enemy formation. His kill streaks seemed to stretch on forever, and somehow the holographic foe just couldn’t concentrate enough fire to overcome his shields. He couldn’t manage the sprint to capture a holographic flag after each round, but his turian teammates proved more than quick enough for that.

It took less than five minutes. Shepard and I watched the scoreboard.

“Gold round,” I breathed, somewhat in awe. “I will _never_ laugh at a volus again.”

Just then something distracted Shepard. I could feel sudden tension in his arm and shoulder as he abruptly glanced to the side.

Vara and Tania had moved to the entrance to our box, faces grim and weapons drawn. They confronted a male turian in an expensive business suit, who currently stood very still and kept his hands well within view.

“Commander Shepard?” called the turian. “Titus Vesperianus. I’m a vice-president of Armax Arsenal, and the operations officer for this arena. May I approach you?”

“He’s clean,” Tania reported.

Shepard nodded. “Go ahead, Vara, let him in.”

My acolytes moved aside, and the turian came to stand before Shepard at a respectful distance. “It’s a great honor to meet you in person, Commander. You as well, Dr. T’Soni.”

“Thanks. What can we do for you?”

“It’s more what we can do for each other, Commander. Have you ever competed in combat sims?”

Shepard shook his head, his eyes narrowed in sudden thought. “Only during military training and exercises, never in the arena. I’m guessing you would like to change that.”

“Very much so. Commander, do you have any idea what the ratings would be like if _you_ decided to participate in a match?”

“I’ve never thought about it.”

“One hour of your time and I could make my quota for a _month,”_ said Vesperianus, his mandibles flaring in an expression of good cheer. “I’m prepared to offer competitor’s access, for you and any teammates you care to name, free of charge. I’ll give you gold-tier preferred scheduling, and standard prizes for each win. All I ask is that you sign a contract giving Armax the broadcast rights.”

Shepard frowned, thinking it through. He glanced at me, and must have seen something in my face to encourage him.

“Mr. Vesperianus,” he said at last, “as I understand it, Armax makes most of its money from the arena through micro-transactions. Someone out in the galaxy wants to watch a few matches, he tunes in and his account gets debited for a credit or so.”

“That’s right. Although a lot of fans of the game buy subscriptions, so they can watch as much as they like.”

“What kind of numbers do you usually get for a match?”

The turian cocked his head, looking oddly _pleased_ to see Shepard asking questions. “An ordinary match, with a well-established team in the game? Our ratings usually run in the high hundreds of millions of viewers.”

A slow grin spread across Shepard’s face, matching the turian’s wide-mandibled smile. “What about a match with me and some of my friends in it? Even if we’re not an established team?”

Vesperianus nodded. “It would depend on how well you did. Even if you somehow turned out to be a complete dud, I’m sure we would get a few _billion_ viewers for your first matches. If you fought well, we could do even better.”

“All right. This all sounds very intriguing, but I’m getting the feeling you’re offering me chump change. Giving me a free athlete’s pass and a few hundred thousand credits in prize money doesn’t even make a tiny dent in what you stand to make.”

The turian’s predatory smile only widened slightly. “What do you propose?”

“I’ll play in your games, Mr. Vesperianus. While I’m on the Citadel and on leave, at any rate. But I want all of my prize money to go to Alliance civilian relief efforts.”

“Not a problem.”

“Plus twenty percent of your gross.”

“Ten percent,” the turian said at once.

“Fifteen.”

“Done.” Vesperianus chuckled. “Provided you let me _advertise_ what you’re doing with your prize money, and that we’re also donating a substantial cut of our proceeds. That will attract so much extra attention, we’ll probably come out ahead.”

Shepard nodded. “I thought as much. That suits me just fine, Mr. Vesperianus. I wouldn’t usually be interested – fighting isn’t a _game_ to me. But if your numbers are right, we can feed, clothe, and house a _lot_ of refugees with that money.”

“Not to mention giving some hope to the people suffering in this war,” I pointed out quietly. “You’re already a hero to billions, but most of them have never seen what you can do. Why not take a few hours to show them?”

Vesperianus nodded in agreement. “I’ll have a contract for you to examine in five minutes. Would you be willing to compete within an hour?”

“Sure. All I need is a team.” Shepard thought for a moment, and then grinned. “What do you say, Liara?”

Somehow I hadn’t thought the matter through that far. “Me? Don’t be absurd, Shepard, you want a team with more combat experience.”

“Come on, T’Soni, just how many combat situations have you survived in the past three years?”

I opened my mouth. Stopped, blinking rapidly. Closed my mouth again.

“Right. That’s two of us.” Shepard glanced over at my acolytes. “Ladies? I don’t suppose any of you would mind being my other wingmate?”

The three of them glanced at each other for an instant, and then Vara stepped forward. “With all due respect, Commander, the hard part will be deciding which of us gets to go.” She grinned. “Fortunately for me, I have seniority.”

“Oh Goddess,” I muttered.

* * *

Shepard fought three matches that afternoon, placing himself in the top levels of the arena’s leaderboard with almost contemptuous ease.

His first match ended in an overwhelming victory, of course. New to the arena, he fought against mere footsoldier-level opponents, holograms with the appearance and behavior of ordinary geth soldiers. We sliced through three waves of them in less than five minutes, with kill streaks long enough to maximize our score. None of us took more than superficial hits. We even made an effort to be _showy_ about it, all three of us setting off blinding displays of biotic fireworks. When Shepard flash-charged in to smash the last geth soldier, the audience came to its feet with a great roar.

Titus Vesperianus looked _indecently_ pleased with himself, after that first match.

Afterward I bowed out, returning with Vara to our box in the stands. Not that I hadn’t enjoyed our match. It felt quite exciting, using my skills without having to fear for my life, hearing the audience react to every success. It reminded me of my time at university, on the skyball field or competing in the yearly _agon_.

The problem was that _everyone else_ wanted a chance to fight on Shepard’s team.

We had barely gotten back to the athlete’s ready room when Ashley called, quite miffed that we had taken up the competitive sims without letting her know. So Shepard’s second match pitted “Team Normandy” – Shepard, Ashley, and James Vega – against holographic Cerberus troopers.

By the third match, Shepard had cumulative scores high enough that the arena gave him more difficult opponents. He fought simulated Reaper soldiers: husks, cannibals, marauders, ravagers, and brutes. With Urdnot Wrex and Urdnot Grunt at his side.

* * *

“Mind if I join you?”

I glanced to the side, where my acolytes had once more gone on guard against an unexpected visitor. This time my eyes widened with surprise.

_Aria T’Loak._

“She’s armed,” said Tania tensely.

“Of course she is.” I relaxed back into my seat and gestured permission. “Don’t worry, Tania, she’s not an enemy.”

Aria smirked as my acolytes admitted her to the box. “You sure about that, T’Soni?”

“Reasonably so. I’m also reasonably sure that if you wanted me dead, you wouldn’t be so crude as to do it yourself, out here in the open.”

“True.” The Pirate Queen sat down a few seats away, sprawling into her chair with an air of indolence. “My, my. You certainly have come up in the world since the last time I saw you.”

“I wasn’t aware we had ever met.”

Aria snorted in amused contempt. “Don’t insult my intelligence. You may be the Shadow Broker these days – and I would _love_ to hear how _that_ happened – but you’re not the only person in the galaxy who can put two and two together. I figured out Kalliste Renai’s identity before you even finished that mission.”

“Fair enough. I apologize.”

She nodded curtly, looking down into the arena. Below us, Shepard emerged with two massive krogan at his side. When the announcer revealed the composition of his team, the audience _roared_.

“Your human has a lot of political sense,” Aria observed. “Or is that your doing?”

“He comes by it honestly.”

“Fighting with two asari by his side. That will play well back on Thessia. Then an Alliance team against Cerberus; that’s quite the political statement for his own people. Now he’s fighting with the leader of the entire krogan species, against their blood enemies.” She chuckled. “At this rate, he’ll get more diplomacy done in one afternoon than in _weeks_ of flying around the galaxy, talking at people.”

“He’s aware of the implications,” I agreed. “The Alliance is lucky that one of their foremost soldiers is also a talented diplomat.”

“Oh, I agree, he’s got a lot of talents.” She gave me a sharp glance. “That’s why I want to borrow him for a few days.”

I turned away from the opening stages of Shepard’s fight, to stare at Aria. “What do you mean?”

“I’m just about ready to return to Omega and take back what’s mine,” she said grimly. “I want Shepard to come with me.”

I sat back, watching as Shepard and his krogan friends charged into the first wave of Reaper holograms. My mind wasn’t on the game. I worked through the implications at lightning speed.

“Politics,” I said after a moment.

Aria only smiled as she leaned forward for a moment, appreciating some particularly violent maneuver down on the arena floor.

“If Shepard goes with you, he can be a big help on the battlefield, but he can give you something even better than that once you win.” I gave her a small knowing smile. “Legitimacy.”

“Sure. I can see the fight against the Reapers is the most important thing in the galaxy right now. That’s why I’m willing to commit all my resources to the war as soon as I have Omega back. But assuming we somehow manage to _win_ . . .”

“Looking to expand your horizons, Aria?” I ignored the match below, watching her for revealing body language or expression. I didn’t see any. “Being the absolute ruler of Omega isn’t enough for you anymore?”

“I don’t want anyone else looking at what the lllusive Man did to me, and thinking they can get away with trying the same thing. If I have to take over half the Terminus Systems to defend what’s mine, I don’t have a problem with that.”

“I understand. You’ll have to discuss it with Shepard.”

“I already have.” She smiled at me, her eyes glittering with enjoyment. “The thing is, I don’t need the _rest_ of his crew to get what I want.”

“You want Shepard to come to Omega without his team? Without _Normandy?”_

“That’s the deal. No Alliance involvement. Not even that other Spectre he runs with. The Shadow Broker in particular keeps her sticky paws well away from Omega.”

I cocked my head at her, keeping my anger well under control. “I’m not sure I understand. I can help, and I have resources of my own.”

Her voice went very cold. “That would be nice, if I thought I could trust you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll make it plain enough even for you. Just when were you planning to tell me who _really_ murdered my daughter?”

I felt a small shock.

Not many people in the galaxy knew that Aria T’Loak _had_ any family. Her daughter Liselle had been one of her lieutenants on Omega, her ancestry carefully concealed, until her brutal murder about six months before. Liselle had been romantically involved with the human Paul Grayson, and the circumstances of her death had pointed to Grayson as the murderer. The incident had driven Aria into a poorly considered alliance with the Illusive Man, leading inexorably to the Cerberus takeover of Omega.

“Aria, I don’t _know_ who killed your daughter. Not certainly. The only others present at the time were Paul Grayson and the Cerberus team who had come to seize him. You _assumed_ Grayson killed your daughter, and that gave the Illusive Man a chance to play you for a fool.”

Her lips pulled back from her teeth in a silent snarl.

“By the time my network turned up even a scrap of evidence to point to Cerberus as being behind Liselle’s murder, you had already made your alliance with them,” I continued, giving her a cold stare. “If I _had_ come to you with the truth, would you have believed a word of it?”

She thought about that for a long moment, while my acolytes and I watched her closely and the crowd muttered and roared all around us.

“No,” she said at last. “I knew you were the Illusive Man’s enemy. You would have had every motive to lie.”

“I’m not in the habit of lying, even to my enemies,” I told her. “But you see the problem. Until you broke with Cerberus on your own initiative, I had no reason to believe you would listen. Even then, I didn’t have any proof. Just a very strong suspicion, that Kai Leng slit your daughter’s throat, while she lay helpless under a tranquilizer.”

She turned away, her jaw set with revulsion, her fingers like claws on the arms of her chair.

I glanced down at the arena. The two krogan stood back to back, shotguns blazing, mowing down images of Reaper troops. I couldn’t see Shepard at first, but then he flash-charged in from the side and explosively scattered a knot of holographic husks.

“All right, I see your point,” Aria said at last. “I still don’t trust you, Liara T’Soni. You may not lie, but you use information like a weapon, doling it out or keeping it for yourself to suit your own advantage. I don’t want the Shadow Broker showing her face on Omega.”

“Which still leaves Shepard traveling with you alone, into territory held by people who would very much like to kill him. Or worse.”

“That’s the deal. You want Omega and the Terminus Systems to come in against the Reapers, you let Shepard handle this himself.”

I frowned, thinking it through.

_She’s dealt with Shepard before. She knows he’s honest, and she respects his capabilities._

_Is there a trap here? Does Aria want more from him than just his combat skills and his visible presence?_

_On the other hand, cutting Cerberus off from what’s become their primary source of supply, their primary logistics base, would be an enormous victory. Not to mention the effect Aria’s ships, troops, and wealth would have on the war against the Reapers._

“My bondmate makes his own decisions,” I said at last. “If he agrees to go with you to retake Omega, I won’t try to stop him.”

The great bell rang, announcing the end of the fight. I glanced at the scoreboard, and felt pleased surprised at the result. Shepard had won his first gold match. I could barely hear myself think, the audience stamped and shouted their approval so loudly.

“Huh,” Aria grunted. She had relaxed, all signs of anger gone. “I see Wrex hasn’t slowed down much.”

I gave her a startled glance. “You know Urdnot Wrex?”

She only smiled lazily, as if reviewing fond memories. “Oh yes. That beat-up old krogan and I go way back. Maybe I should go down to the ready room, see if I can give at least one of his hearts a coronary.”

_At least she’s not looking as if she wants to throttle me anymore._

“Come on,” I suggested. “We’ll all go.”


	39. Heart of Darkness

**_28 May 2186, Silversun Strip, Kithoi Ward/Citadel_ **

On our last night of freedom, Shepard and I had a very fine meal at one of the Strip’s better restaurants, then retired to Admiral Anderson’s apartment early. There we had a nightcap in the hot tub, after which Shepard gave me a luxurious massage to set my every nerve humming. Then he made love to me with such tender ferocity that my heart still melts to think of it, all these centuries later. Shepard was always an attentive and passionate lover, but that evening he exceeded himself.

Afterward we lay in the Admiral’s bed, my head pillowed on his shoulder, one arm and one leg thrown across his body. I dozed for a time, clinging to him, even in sleep not wanting to let him go.

In the midnight darkness, some sound or movement woke me. I listened to his breathing, and then sent my mind out to brush against his for a moment.

“Shepard?”

“Hmm,” he rumbled, his arm tightening around my shoulders.

“Is something troubling you?”

“No.” He sighed. “Yes. Maybe.”

I couldn’t help it, I had to chuckle. “What happened to that famous decisiveness Joker was talking about?”

“This isn’t a combat situation.” He stirred, pushed himself up against the headboard. “More of an existential crisis, I suppose. It has to do with the construct.”

“VI, lights to one-quarter.” I propped myself up on one elbow and peered at him in the low, golden light. “What brought this on?”

“I got a report from the Alliance team that’s interrogating him. Apparently he is _completely_ uncooperative. He alternates between long stretches of sullen silence and sudden outbursts of homicidal rage. About the only useful information they’ve been able to get has to do with Brooks. He’s even angrier at her than he is at the rest of us, and he’s let a lot of interesting things drop while he rants about her.”

“That all fits our model of his personality,” I pointed out. “The only socialization he ever received was from Brooks. Clearly not the best model or mentor. Now he has no control over his circumstances. In a sense he’s been infantilized again. No wonder he’s angry and frustrated.”

Shepard shook his head in disgust. “Yeah. It’s a little disturbing. He was built on my model. He clearly has a lot of potential. Yet we’re poles apart. I can’t even imagine _wanting_ to behave the way he does.”

“Why does that disturb you?”

“There’s a phrase: _there, but for the grace of God, go I_. That could have been me.”

“That could _never_ have been you,” I said firmly, reaching out to caress him.

He moved again, turning to face me across a narrow space. “I love you too, T’Soni, but let’s face facts. Forget what the Council and the Alliance have agreed to. Forget that you look at me and see the man you fell in love with, back aboard the original _Normandy_. That man is _dead.”_

My hand stopped moving idly on his skin, as I felt a deep chill.

“William Allen Shepard is _gone_. All that’s left, quite literally, are your memories of him. That, and two biological constructs assembled by Cerberus out of a dead man’s flesh. I got lucky. I have his memories, or at least enough of them to pick up where he left off. I have the name and the identity. I have you.”

“You’re being absurd,” I snapped, unaccountably annoyed with him. “You’re more than just a construct. You have continuity of memories and personality.”

“Do I?” He took a deep breath, reached across the gap to caress my cheek with his fingers, run the ball of his thumb lightly over my lips. “The only reason I have the original’s memories is because Cerberus copied them out of your brain into a computer, and then from there into my brain. A brain, I remind you, that they had to rebuild almost from scratch. It’s all three times removed from the original, and I’m not sure of the fidelity.”

I looked into his eyes. “You’ve been worrying about this for a while, haven’t you?”

“Ever since I woke up on Lazarus Station. Not that I’ve ever let it make a difference to the mission. I’ve been too busy to waste much time on soul-searching. But yeah, late at night I sometimes look in the mirror and wonder how it is that I even recognize the man I see.”

“Miranda told me that you were feeling profoundly alienated.”

“When was this?”

“On our way to Hagalaz for the first time, to confront the yahg.” I gave him an uneasy smile, remembering how close I had come to losing him. “She castigated me for keeping my emotional detachment after you returned.”

He kissed my forehead gently, a gesture of forgiveness. “That woman can be _such_ a mother hen.”

“Only with people she cares about. That’s a very short list.” I looked into his eyes again. “She loves you, you know. Possibly _almost_ as much as I do.”

“I know. But we’re getting off the point. It all goes back to Cerberus.”

I frowned, the chill back in my bones.

“Just to begin with, those bastards rewired me to be a biotic. Although that _works_ very well on the battlefield, I can’t sustain the combat style the original had before Alchera. You remember.”

I nodded. When I first knew him, he had been an artist with the sniper rifle, as good as or even better than Garrus Vakarian. Since his death and resurrection, his combat style had changed entirely, focusing on close-quarters work with a shotgun and biotic feats.

“Of course, I’m also stronger than he was, faster, tougher, more resilient. Sharper senses, faster reaction time. So there’s a big difference in capabilities. Then we have the more subtle things. Gaps in the memories I got from him. I remember his parents, what they looked like, what they sounded like. I remember his younger sister, the one who was probably taken by the batarians. I can’t remember his _older_ sister, not her face, not her voice, nothing but a few scraps of conversation.

“Here’s another one. This morning I picked up his Bible, and suddenly realized I didn’t remember the part I was reading. No sensation of familiarity. Now, the original Shepard wasn’t a very good Christian by the time you met him, but believe me, his father once insisted on a _very_ biblical household. He had read the whole book several times over the years, _cover to cover_ as we say.”

“Hmm.”

My gaze went unfocused, as I went back through his memories in my mind. I found I also had a hard time remembering Sophie Shepard in any detail. Nor could I summon up the whole text of his sacred book.

_All of which suggests the loss of information happened before Alchera._

“Shepard, isn’t it natural for human memories to fade, especially if they carry less emotional weight?” I asked him after a few moments. “You felt close to your parents, and you’ve had to cope with the trauma of their violent murder. You loved your younger sister, and you’ve had to cope with the fear that the batarians took and abused her. But your other sister was much older, she was not so close to you, and by the time the batarians attacked Mindoir, she had married and moved away.”

“True,” he admitted.

“As for your text, what part of it were you trying to read?”

“It was somewhere in the middle of the Old Testament,” he said slowly. “Ezra or Nehemiah, I think.”

“Is that a section you’ve ever found greatly meaningful? Have you re-read it often?”

“I suppose not.”

I permitted slight exasperation to show on my face. “Shepard. Gospel of John, chapter three, verse sixteen.”

He hesitated not at all. _“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”_

“There is _nothing_ wrong with your memory,” I told him. _“That_ text is so important to you that even _I_ know it, and I’ve never read a page of your sacred book.”

He chuckled, some of his grim mood lifting. “I suppose Cerberus did a pretty good job transcribing his memories after all. Of course, being your husband gives me the chance to reinforce them on a regular basis.”

I snorted. “So you’re saying that you are a _very highly skilled_ imitator of a dead man?”

“I suppose you could put it that way.” He took another deep breath. “Thank God I’ve had lots of practice. I keep looking back on all that’s happened since I woke up on Lazarus Station. All the terrible things I haven’t been to prevent. Aratoht. Mordin. Thane. Even that bastard Udina. And how many millions of people die horribly every day, while I play fighting games for the extranet, and sleep in safety and comfort with my wife?”

“You wonder if the original Shepard could have done better.”

He nodded. “I look at the construct, the _other_ construct, and I can certainly see how one of us has done a lot _worse.”_

I moved close and held him. I knew I had guessed rightly when I felt his arms tighten around me, tension in the bands of muscle.

“All right,” I whispered. “I’ll stipulate it. You may not be the same William Allen Shepard I met on Therum, fell in love with, fought alongside against Saren and the geth. _It doesn’t matter._ You’re close enough to being the same man that no one but you has any doubts.”

“Hmm. Maybe, but they _are_ my doubts. Which means I have to deal with them.”

Suddenly I felt inspiration strike. “Shepard. Would it help if you thought of yourself as that man’s _heir?”_

He drew back a little, to look into my eyes again, a thoughtful frown on his face.

“I mean, if you _insist_ on thinking of him as dead and yourself as a new individual, why not? Consider yourself heir to all that he was, all that was his. If he had known you would exist, don’t you think he would have willingly left it all to you, the responsibilities but also the rewards?”

“That isn’t a bad idea,” he said at last. “It puts all this weirdness in a context I can understand, at any rate.”

“It’s not as if anyone else has a _better_ claim to the name or the identity. Even after Lazarus Station, no one else has done more to destroy the Collectors. Defeat Cerberus. Defeat the Reapers.”

“There’s no one else with a better claim to my love.”

He leaned close. “If you say so,” he murmured in my aural cavity, sending a shiver down my spine.

“I say so.” I turned my head, kissed him deeply for a moment. “Now enough of this fretting over metaphysical issues. Tomorrow you’re going away with Aria. I’m not going to be able to rest or think straight until we’re together again. So if it’s all the same to you, I want to make the most of the time we have.”

He laughed softly, most of the tension suddenly vanished. “No argument from me, T’Soni.”

* * *

**_30 May 2186, Mesana System Space_ **

“I’ve received more information from the asari High Command,” I told the others. “This place they want us to investigate, it’s the _ardat-yakshi_ monastery.”

Garrus hissed slightly in surprise.

 _“Ardat_ -what?” asked James, frowning.

“It’s from an old asari dialect,” I explained. _“Ardat-yakshi_ are asari suffering from a certain genetic mutation, in its rarest and most lethal form. The mutation has several effects, but the most obvious one is a defect in the asari reproductive system. When an _ardat-yakshi_ mates, there is no gentle merging of minds. Her mind ravages her partner’s, burns it out. The partner is left a mindless shell, and normally dies almost at once.”

Ashley whistled, long and low. “What a way to go.”

“It’s worse than that. The experience is intensely pleasurable for the _ardat-yakshi_. She can easily become addicted to it. Meanwhile, just as a normal asari would, she gains something of the skills and experience of each victim. An _ardat-yakshi_ who kills often, and manages to avoid capture, can become a hideously powerful monster.”

“Shepard had to deal with an _ardat-yakshi_ on Omega, not long before our final mission against the Collectors.” Garrus shook his head uneasily, his mandibles tight against his jaw. “I wasn’t there for the confrontation, but afterward Shepard called it one of the most dangerous moments of his entire life. Given the kind of life he’s had, that’s saying a lot.”

I nodded in agreement, exchanging a glance with Vara, who looked uncommonly grim. “The same _ardat-yakshi_ attacked my people on Illium, just before _Normandy_ first came there. She nearly killed me.”

“What does all this have to do with the facility we’re supposed to investigate?” Ashley asked.

“The mutation is usually detected before its carrier reaches sexual maturity. At that point she is given a choice: life in seclusion, or immediate euthanasia.”

I saw wide-eyed shock from Garrus and the humans. Only Javik snorted in cynical derision, and returned to checking his weapons and gear.

“Isn’t that a little extreme?” asked Ashley after a moment.

“No,” I said, staring into her eyes. “It isn’t.”

“So these asari sex vampires hole up in a monastery,” said James.

 _“Potential_ asari sex vampires,” I corrected him. “Yes, those who wish to live out their lives in peace. They are made comfortable and treated well, but they always remain in strict isolation, under the authority of a Matriarch who serves as prioress of the monastery. Their existence is highly structured, built around emotional discipline, intellectual study, meditation, prayer, and _absolute_ celibacy.”

Ashley grunted. “I can imagine. So what’s happened here?”

“That’s what the High Command wants us to find out.”

“Any chance the _ardat-yakshi_ got loose?”

“It’s a possibility. High Command sent a squad of commandos to investigate, and if necessary to purge the place. All communication was lost about fifteen hours ago, which was when they contacted us.”

 _“Purge_ the place?” asked Garrus. “With what?”

“About twenty kilotons,” I told him.

A sudden silence fell.

“All right,” said Ashley decisively. “Take us in, Lieutenant, but watch for signs of trouble.”

“Aye-aye, Commander,” said the pilot from his seat in the cockpit. “I have the place on long-range sensors now. Looks absolutely quiet, except . . .”

“Talk to me, Cortez.”

“Reaper signatures,” he said flatly. “Faint but clear.”

Ashley and I exchanged a glance, and I knew we thought the same thing.

_This mission just got a lot more complicated._

* * *

**_30 May 2186, Tēlistos Monastery/Lessus_ **

The monastery stood high on the slopes of a great mountain range, hundreds of kilometers from the nearest settlement. It appeared impossible for anyone to approach or depart except by air. The great building possessed a severe kind of architectural beauty, its great spire and sweeping curves shining in the light of ten thousand stars.

Everything seemed utterly quiet. As we stepped down from the shuttle and deployed out onto the front portico, we saw no sign of anyone at all.

James spotted the anomaly first. While we scanned the area visually, he moved off to one side, standing over an aircar parked some distance from our own landing point.

“Hey,” he called. “The engine block on this car is still warm. It must have landed here not too long ago.”

“No sign of the asari commandos,” observed Garrus, “and a squad with heavy ordnance would have needed more than one aircar.”

“Somebody else must be here.” Ashley gestured for all of us to converge on the entrance to the monastery. “Come on, let’s move.”

The entrance stood unlocked, but the lift that normally conveyed visitors down to the entrance hall was off-line. The six of us had to climb down through the shaft using a series of emergency ladders. Out into a large space, utterly dark and silent.

Our lights scattered around, revealing a communal hall of some kind, a place for the residents to eat and study together. We explored cautiously, some instinct keeping us close together as we crossed the floor.

A sound, like the shriek of a damned soul, somewhere far away.

“Goddess,” I breathed. “That almost sounds like . . .”

“Yeah,” said Ashley flatly. “Not too close, but not nearly far enough away either. Everyone keep the hell on your toes.”

“Over here,” said Javik, his light pointing down at the floor from a short distance away.

We gathered around an asari corpse, looking rather small and pathetic huddled on the floor.

“Commando,” observed Garrus. “Pretty badly torn up.”

“There are more,” Javik reported, moving his light off to one side.

Larger shapes, lumpy with tumorous growths, mottled red and black. I shuddered in revulsion. “Cannibals.”

“It appears she took some of the enemy with her,” said the Prothean.

“Liara, give me a reality check here,” Ashley commanded.

“Certainly.”

“Dead asari commandos. Dead Reaper troops. Where are the _ardat-yakshi?”_

“I don’t know. The population of this monastery should be well over a hundred. If a Reaper attack caught them, we should have found some of them by now.”

“Any chance they managed to evacuate?”

I shook my head. “Where would they go? Those in charge of this place would be sworn to _die_ before permitting any of their charges to leave.”

She tossed her head, getting her hair out of the way so she could give me a direct brown-eyed stare. “Liara, just what is it about these _ardat-yakshi_ that has your people so scared?”

“I don’t know if you read Shepard’s report about Morinth . . .”

“Yeah, I did. I was under the impression she went down easily enough.”

“Ashley, she faced _Shepard_ , assisted by one of the most powerful warriors the asari people have ever produced, and there still wasn’t anything _easy_ about it. When Vara and I fought Morinth on Illium, we had every advantage and yet she very nearly killed us both. That was _one ardat-yakshi_ , still relatively young. _Ardat-yakshi_ who kill can rack up _astronomical_ body counts.”

“Hmm. And dozens of them lived here.” Ashley’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Liara, what happens when you take an _ardat-yakshi,_ even one who hasn’t killed anyone yet, and turn her into an indoctrinated Reaper creature?”

I saw it then. “That must be where _banshees_ come from.”

 _“Dios,”_ muttered James. “Now we know why the Reapers targeted this place.”

We moved through more rooms, better lit, but still empty save for the occasional asari or Reaper corpse. We found many more Reapers than commandos. Clearly the asari had fought a very effective running battle before meeting their fate.

Before long we heard sounds of combat up ahead: small-arms fire, the deeper bark of Reaper weapons, and the low _thrum_ of biotic feats. We hurried.

Silence fell once again as we approached a large set of double doors. Ashley opened them, and we moved out onto a wide balcony, moving slowly and silently.

“You may approach,” said a cool asari voice from ahead and below us. “There is nothing to fear for the moment.”

Ashley lowered her weapon slightly and stalked forward, looking down from the balcony into a grand gallery below. I hurried to stand at her side.

Below us, I saw a battlefield. Close to a dozen cannibals sprawled in death on all sides. In their midst stood a tall, elegant figure, wearing form-fitting battle dress in crimson and gold. She glanced up and took all of us in, with smoky silver eyes that never lost a certain cold serenity.

“Justicar Samara!” I called.

“Dr. T’Soni. And young Vara T’Rathis as well. I am pleased.”

“This is Samara?” asked Ashley, keen interest in her voice.

“Yes.” I turned to make introductions. “Honored justicar, you already know Garrus Vakarian. This is Lieutenant Commander Ashley Williams, Alliance Navy, also an officer of Citadel Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. Lieutenant James Vega. Javik.”

Ashley, James, and Garrus all nodded and murmured greetings. Javik turned away in silence, still tense, his eyes searching the shadows to either side.

“If I may ask, where is Commander Shepard?” Samara’s voice might have carried just a hint of concern.

“He’s fine as far as we know,” Ashley answered. “He’s on detached duty at the moment. We hope to see him again in a few days. I’m temporarily in command of _Normandy_. What’s the situation here?”

“As you see. First the Reapers came, then the huntresses. When all was over, the Reapers had been badly hurt, but it appears they remain in control of this place.”

“They’re trying to capture the _ardat-yakshi_ , aren’t they?”

“It would seem they have succeeded. So far I have found no survivors.”

“Ma’am, what brings _you_ here? Were you sent to finish the High Command’s mission?”

“No. I suspect that is your task, Commander. I have other objectives.”

“Rila and Falere are here?” I asked gently.

For the first time, a shadow seemed to cross Samara’s face, take up residence in her eyes. “Yes. I have not yet found them.”

Ashley shot me a questioning glance.

“Her daughters,” I murmured. “Morinth’s sisters.”

She scowled, nodded in understanding as she turned back to Samara. “Ma’am, let’s work this problem together. We’ll give you any assistance we can.”

“That would be most welcome.” Samara glanced sharply to her side, and then we all heard the sound of more Reaper troops approaching. “We’re out of time. The center of this evil is in the Great Hall. That is where I must go. Meet me there if you can.”

Then she left us, striding away to meet whatever stood between her and her remaining children.

We had to take a different route into the heart of the monastery, out to cross a great courtyard and then through a meditation garden. There the banshees met us, two in the courtyard, two in the garden, each pair supported by a squad of cannibals.

Ashley had never encountered the once-asari monsters before, but she had diligently read every after-action report available from the Alliance and the Spectres. When the first monster screamed a challenge and began its slow, inexorable advance, she wasted no time.

“Take cover!” she barked. “Vega, you and I get to deal with the cannibals. Everyone else, focus on the banshee on the right, then the left. Do what you do best.”

It turned out to be a very good strategy. The human soldiers could keep twisted batarians at bay with ease, but they lacked any special advantage against banshees. Javik, Vara, and I laid down weapons fire, but our most effective attack was a string of biotic feats. We hurled detonation after detonation against the monsters’ barriers, slowly wearing them away.

Garrus settled into position, sighted in his sniper rifle, and fired.

Then he grunted in chagrin. I don’t think he expected his target to take a perfect head-shot, then turn to _stare_ at him, showing nothing more than mild annoyance.

He didn’t hesitate for long, sighted in once more and began to fire as quickly as the weapon was capable. _Boom. Boom. Boom._

“Sweet Goddess, I _hate_ these things,” muttered Vara.

“Do not hesitate, asari.” Javik continued to lay down fire against the closest monster. “The Reapers use us to create their soldiers for a reason. They hope to use your fear and revulsion against you. Do not permit them.”

Vara set her jaw in determination, and threw another bolt of telekinetic force down-range.

The first banshee went down, dissolving into putrid ashes before it could attack any of us directly.

Unfortunately, that left the second one unhurt, and _much too close._

“Scatter!” shouted Ashley. “Wolf-pack it!”

James rolled to the side, moving fast for all his bulk, escaping the thing’s biotic aura and its vicious talons. Just in time, as it howled and produced a vicious nova-field to smash everything within several meters.

Then everything we had rained down upon it all at once: biotic detonations, grenades, and a hail of gunfire.

It crouched in the midst of the storm, brandishing its talons once more and screaming hate in our faces. Then something failed. Its barriers crashed, leaving its warped flesh exposed. Even a powerful Reaper creature could not survive such an onslaught for long.

“Is it just me, or are those banshees even tougher than usual?” mused Garrus.

“I don’t think it’s just you,” said Ashley. “We’re close to the source.”

Inside the monastery once more, we faced another pair of banshees, but now experience backed our tactics. We dealt with the enemy and pressed forward.

Still no dead _ardat-yakshi_ , only asari commandos and dead Reapers.

Unless, of course, some of the inmates had already been converted into the monsters we fought.

“These _ardat-yakshi_ are an abomination,” said Javik after a time. “Our Empire would never have permitted such monsters to live.”

I glared at him for a moment, for once unwilling to tolerate his cruel cynicism. “Didn’t care for the competition?”

Four hot yellow eyes stared at me. _“Rrrh,”_ he spat, and turned away.

Ashley caught my gaze, gave me a disapproving stare. I shrugged and fell silent.

* * *

Finally we found another lift, this one operational. It took us to the Great Hall, at the heart of the monastery complex. We emerged to find the place clear for the time being, littered with Reaper corpses but with no active enemies present.

Samara had gotten there before us, her body armor scuffed and even _torn_ , as if she had met considerable resistance on the way. She stood at the far end of the Hall with two other asari, one huddled on the floor, the other bending low over her.

“Rila? Why doesn’t she answer?”

“I fear the Reapers have already taken Rila,” said Samara gently as we approached.

Just then the asari on the floor stirred, scrambled awkwardly to her feet. Her eyes opened, pitch black, as if in the throes of a joining. Quick as a serpent, she lashed out to take the other asari by the throat. Her victim’s eyes went wide in terror, but she made no move to defend herself. Samara had to step in, strike the attacker with a flurry of blows, and knock her to the floor once more.

“Why did she do that?” asked the stranger, one hand at her throat.

“She does not know who you are, child. She is already in the process of becoming one of them.”

“Justicar?” Ashley ventured.

“Yes, Commander.” Samara turned, as coldly composed as ever. “I have found my daughters, as you see. Falere managed to conceal herself from the foe. When I found her, she revealed the Reapers had taken Rila. We followed her here.”

Ashley thought hard for a moment. “Have you found any others?”

“No. I fear these may be the last survivors.”

“Then we had better get you out of here and blow this place.”

“What?” The asari still standing turned toward us. I deduced this was Falere: an attractive matron in her fifth century, her face marked with dark dapples, wearing a conservative gown. “The commandos were here to destroy the monastery too. They didn’t give a damn about any of _us.”_

“Falere,” said Samara, her voice reproving.

The younger asari sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. They were right, given the logic of what we are. But none of _us_ have turned into killers. We don’t deserve to just be _murdered_ by our own people.”

“No,” came another voice. “We’re past that point now.”

The other asari rose from the floor once more, her hands to her temples, obviously suffering but in control of herself. This one seemed a true beauty, marked in white instead of her sister’s indigo dapples, her eyes huge and crystal-blue now that the Reaper’s influence had waned.

“Rila?”

“We _should_ have died, all of us, rather than let ourselves be taken by those _things.”_ Rila shuddered, in pain or revulsion or both. “How many more will they use us to kill, we who swore _never_ to use violence even in our own defense?”

“Rila, what is your assessment?” Samara watched her daughter, not without compassion. “Can you be saved?”

“I don’t think so.” Rila stood tall and proud, staring back at her mother. “I can hear them in my mind, Mother. Their machines are in my blood. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Then I will do what must be done.” Samara glanced at Ashley. “Commander, I ask that you get Falere to safety.”

“What are you planning, ma’am?” Ashley said, already frowning, as if she knew she wouldn’t like the answer.

“Rila and I will remain here. I will give you enough time to escape. Then I will complete the High Command’s mission.”

Falere recoiled. “Mother, no!”

“There is no other choice, child.” Samara stared at Falere. For the first time since I had known her, she permitted an emotion to show on her face: anguished love.

“You are wrong, Mother.” Rila opened one hand, revealing a detonator. “The commandos planted their demolition charge just over there, right by the central pillar. It’s already armed. I’ll give you all as long as I can.”

For some reason, Samara didn’t seem happy at this proposal. “Are you certain you will be able to complete the mission before they overpower you?”

Rila actually _laughed,_ a single bark of grim humor. “Of course not! But I’m _your_ daughter. If anyone can keep control of her own mind long enough . . .”

Samara only nodded, put her hand on Rila’s shoulder for a moment, and then turned back for the lift.

“Move out,” Ashley commanded. When Falere screamed and began to struggle, Ashley nodded to James, who lifted the _ardat-yakshi_ bodily and began to _carry_ her along with us.

Falere’s screams seemed to call up others. A single shrieking howl, than a second, then a whole chorus of the damned.

We hurried.

As we entered the lift, I glanced back. Rila stood slumped by a column, breathing hard, her eyes gone black as midnight, one hand cradling the detonator, the other upraised to maintain a biotic barrier. Banshees had surrounded her, and I realized with horror that many of them had once been her friends.

Then the lift closed, Falere hammering on the unfeeling doors, and we could do nothing but flee.

“Samara, where does this lift open out?” Ashley demanded.

“It can take us down to the rear portico,” the justicar answered. “I do not see how we can get away quickly enough.”

Ashley nodded curtly, opened a comm channel. “Cortez, get in the air _now._ We’re going to be leaving by the rear entrance.”

_“You got it, Commander. Secure and aweigh. We in a hurry?”_

“Let’s just say we’re one step ahead of a mushroom cloud.”

_“Oh dear. On my way.”_

Cortez turned out as good as his word. He located the rear portico and already hovered there when we emerged, all of us running as fast as we could, even Falere no longer making any attempt to linger. We clambered aboard, Ashley the last to make the leap. Cortez fled down the mountain slope, away from the doomed monastery, almost before the hatch closed.

Seconds before an antimatter explosion erupted, blowing the top off the mountain and eradicating every trace of the Tēlistos Monastery from existence.

* * *

Samara seemed even more grimly silent than usual during our flight. Twenty kilometers away, well outside the blast radius, Cortez set the shuttle down in an isolated alpine valley. We stepped out into a forest clearing, all of us looking up to where a great plume of dust and debris towered against the night sky.

Falere walked further than the rest of us, staring toward the wrecked monastery, tears streaming down her face. “Rila. We just left her to die!”

Samara shook her head. “I am sorry, Falere. We could do nothing for Rila. At least she died well, resisting her enemies to the last.”

“That’s no comfort.” Falere slumped, her shoulders hunched as she fought to contain her grief.

“I suppose it is not. Which makes what I must do now all the more difficult.”

Falere turned back, warned by something in Samara’s voice. “Mother?”

Samara’s voice fell utterly flat, under iron control. “Falere, the Code does not permit an _ardat-yakshi_ to live outside the confines of the monastery.”

Falere’s eyes went wide.

Samara drew her sidearm, but she did not train it on her daughter. A perfectly controlled movement ended with the weapon resting against her right temple.

It would have taken only an instant for Samara’s finger to tighten on the trigger.

In that instant, Ashley acted.

She didn’t hesitate, didn’t pause in shock or incomprehension. She began several steps away, but in the only moment she had, she moved. Quickly, silently, she stepped up behind Samara and seized the justicar’s weapon hand, pulling it away from the critical point with a smooth burst of strength.

Samara could have hurled Ashley away with a thought. Instead, her eyes wide with anger, she simply demanded: _“Let. Go.”_

“Can’t do that, ma’am,” said Ashley, holding her firmly.

“I _cannot_ kill my only remaining daughter!” Samara raged.

“Then don’t. What’s so hard about that?”

“The Code . . .”

“You are operating under a false assumption, Mother.” Falere stepped forward to hold Samara’s gaze, dropping into an elegant formal asari dialect that served for statements of deepest truth. “I obey a Code of my own, which requires me to live as no threat to anyone.”

“Falere?”

“I do not need a monastery to live by that Code. I can remain here in the mountains, alone, as long as necessary.”

Samara thought hard for a long moment. I could see it, the instant her logic led her to unexpected hope. She relaxed in Ashley’s grip, no longer poised to leap into her final battle. “Then the Code permits you to stay, as you are.”

Ashley let go of Samara, carefully, ready to move again if she had to. “There’s plenty of survival gear in the shuttle. Shelter, ration packs, a water purification system. We can let you have that.”

“Thank you, Commander,” said Falere.

“It will not be easy to survive here, without the community,” the justicar pointed out.

“Life as an _ardat-yakshi_ is _never_ easy,” said Falere, one last hint of resentment in her voice. Then she softened, wiping the tears away from her eyes. “Don’t worry about me, Mother. I will survive. And if the Reapers come back, they _won’t_ take me alive.”

Samara nodded slowly, standing straight and tall once more, open pride in her face as she looked at her last remaining child.

Then she almost lost her composure again, as Falere moved to fold her mother up in her arms. Samara stood tense and awkward for just a moment, but then she returned the hug.

I felt tears sting in my eyes, as I realized how long it must have been since the two of them had simply embraced, like any normal mother and daughter.

_Goddess. Will I ever get the chance to stand with a child of my own, and feel such pride and love for her?_

“Stay then, child,” Samara murmured. “And if I survive this war, I will return here and visit. As a justicar should.”

Falere nodded and let go.

Samara turned back to us, to Ashley. “Thank you, Commander. I confess my reasoning failed me for a moment. I am glad you were able to save me from my mistake.”

Ashley nodded. “What will you do now, ma’am?”

“I will stay with Falere for a time, to ensure she has the means to survive in this place. Then I will report to my Order. There are very few of us, but what we can do in this war, we will do.”

“Good.” Ashley extended a hand for Samara to shake, and then turned away. “Liara, would you say the High Command will be satisfied?”

“Most likely.”

“Do me a favor. When you report to them, just tell them the _ardat-yakshi_ aren’t a threat anymore. Bad enough the Reapers might come back. Falere doesn’t need her own people trying to hunt her down.”

I nodded slowly in understanding. “I will.”

“Good.” She glanced around her one last time. “Let’s get back to _Normandy_. This is a pretty place, but I for one am sick of it.”


	40. Relics

**_6 June 2186, Mil System Space_ **

“This is SSV _Normandy_ to anyone receiving on the planet Chalkhos. Please respond.”

Ashley waited for a long moment, and then glanced at me with a frown before repeating her hail.

“This is SSV _Normandy_ to anyone receiving on the planet Chalkhos. Please respond.”

Silence, on every comm channel.

“Liara, I’m beginning to think there’s no one left here to pick up.”

“This planet had a population of sixty million less than three days ago,” I pointed out. “The Reapers couldn’t have killed everyone that _quickly_ , could they?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them . . .”

She trailed off, because I suddenly appeared distracted. I held up a hand for patience while I listened to one of my own comm channels.

“Thank the Goddess,” I said at last. “Here, let me patch this in.”

“ _. . . ISV_ Cannae _, Quintus Trevanian commanding. Good to hear from you,_ Normandy _. We’ve got a very bad situation here.”_

Ashley cut herself into the channel. “This is Lieutenant Commander Ashley Williams, temporarily in command of _Normandy_.”

I winced, where she could not see. Many of us had begun to fear her command would not be as _temporary_ as we first believed.

_Shepard, where are you?_

“Your principal is on board as well,” Ashley continued. “What is your situation? Can we lend assistance?”

“ _We’ve set down in the mountains on the northern continent. I’ll send you coordinates. We are under heavy attack from Reaper ground forces, supported by at least one destroyer-class platform.”_

I caught Ashley’s glance, got a quick nod of permission. “Quintus, have you attained your primary objectives?”

“ _Yes, Doctor. We’ve recovered ARGOS, and we’re integrating its matrix into the ship even as we speak. Soon we’ll have our own unshackled AI helping us run things. We evacuated what few survivors we could find from Taranis as well.”_

“Then why aren’t you in FTL and heading for safety?”

“ _Got a distress signal from Chalkhos. When we arrived . . . well, let’s just say there’s something here that_ has _to be recovered, but it’s too big for_ Cannae _alone. I don’t think it’s a good idea to discuss this further on an open channel. Can you land?”_

Ashley nodded decisively. “Affirmative, _Cannae_ , we will approach. Send us your tactical updates. We’ll see if we can take some of the pressure off your position on the way in.”

“ _Much obliged,_ Normandy _. See you soon.”_

“Joker, take us in. I’ll have targeting for you in a minute.”

“ _Aye-aye, Commander.”_

Ashley leaned forward on the command podium, while Samantha and I worked to analyze and integrate the data flow from _Cannae_. It didn’t take us long to replace the galaxy map with a contour map of the terrain where Quintus’s ship had landed.

Low mountains, old, worn down by millions of years of wind and water. A wide valley running down from the highest ridge-line, many kilometers long, once occupied by farms and fertile parkland. The high northern latitude made the climate almost pleasantly cool, with little of the oven-like heat found across most of the planet.

“Reaper forces here, here, and here,” I reported, using a cursor to mark large formations moving slowly up the valley. “The Reaper destroyer is here, hanging back for some reason, almost as if it’s afraid to push our people too hard. Asari militia forces scattered throughout the middle heights, using guerilla tactics to slow the Reaper advance. _Cannae_ is currently on the ground here, not far behind the militia.”

“What’s that unit at the top of the valley, marked as _unknown?”_ Ashley demanded.

“Unclear. _Cannae_ has that tagged as most-secret data, not to be transmitted even under _my_ best encryption schemes. We’re going to have to go see for ourselves.”

“Very secretive, your captain.”

“He has good sense,” I said, only a hint of annoyance in my voice. “I’ve trusted him for years.”

“Fair enough.” Ashley reached a decision, tapped at the controls on her podium. “Joker, here’s your target list. Hammer these concentrations of Reaper forces, take the pressure off the asari, but _watch your fire_. We _really_ don’t want any blue-on-blue damage here.”

_“You got it. Ninety seconds.”_

Within moments I could hear the roar of atmosphere as _Normandy_ hammered its way down through the stratosphere of Chalkhos.

 _Boom-boom. Boom-boom. Boom-boom._ The Thanix cannon fired on rapid cycle.

At once, I began to see battle-damage assessments in the real-time data feed from _Cannae_. Icons changed, numbers flashed, a cool and sterile way to report the sudden incineration of hundreds of Reaper creatures.

 _Normandy_ jinked, hard, and all of us jostled in our safety harnesses. Ashley nearly lost her footing, despite her own acceleration frame.

“ _Whoa!”_ shouted Joker, even as he threw the ship into a series of violent evasive maneuvers. _“That Reaper down there has decent aim for a change.”_

“They do better when they’re shooting at space-tactical ranges,” Ashley observed. “Can you lay down another barrage?”

“ _Watch me.”_

_Boom-boom. Boom-boom. Boom-boom._

“Militia report the enemy in full retreat,” I said. “We’re secure to land. At least for now.”

“I’ll take it,” Ashley said. “Joker, take us down.”

I ignored her, ignored Joker’s flippant response, ignored even Samantha as she helped with my work. I refused to think about anything but the cold, objective analysis of data.

Refused to think about the ice forming around my heart.

* * *

Aria might have refused my help in retaking Omega, but I found her operational security sorely lacking. I had no difficulty planting informants all through her fleet, long before it departed Citadel Space. Thus I knew when she finally moved to attack Omega. I knew that Shepard stood next to Aria on the bridge of her flagship, helping her persuade the Cerberus commander to stand down.

I also knew about the commander’s response. The first chill came when I heard his name.

 _General Oleg Petrovsky_.

I had once gotten the better of Petrovsky. Once. It had not been easy. It had only been _possible_ because I brought overwhelming force with me. Petrovsky used surprise and cunning tactics, and he very nearly defeated a Shadow Broker task force despite his numerical disadvantage.

Aria didn’t have overwhelming force at her disposal, and Petrovsky had spent over two months preparing Omega for an attack.

The assault turned into a massacre: Aria’s flagship destroyed, dozens of her supporting ships put out of action, hundreds or even thousands of her people killed. Including, apparently, all of my informants in a position to see whether either Aria or Shepard survived.

Days later, _something_ seemed to be happening on Omega. We still had no word of Cerberus retaking complete control of the station. We got confusing reports of armed resistance, guerilla wars fought in the slums, Cerberus troops exacting reprisals.

I did not know whether Shepard still lived.

Then the other disaster fell.

The Reapers began to attack asari worlds.

Illium came first, a Reaper armada sweeping down to begin its _harvest_ of the asari people. With help from T’Soni Analytics, Matriarch Pytho managed a virtuoso defense of the planet, preventing Reaper ground forces from landing. Yet they paid a terrible cost. Orbital bombardment reduced Nos Astra to rubble, killing millions and driving the remaining population into exile in the high desert.

Aspasia sent word, reporting almost all of her people evacuated in time. Aspasia herself took refuge in Matriarch Pytho’s fortress under Mount Hyasteia. There, she and the remnants of the Illium Defense Force could hold out for months. None of us labored under any illusion that they could survive a siege forever.

Then more asari worlds began to come under attack: Asteria, Trategos, Cyone, other colonies scattered across the galaxy. Only Thessia appeared immune, for the moment.

Some of our worlds managed to put up a good fight. We had some of the best fleets and planetary-defense networks in the galaxy, and as on Illium they sometimes prevented the Reapers from landing in force. Even when the Reapers _did_ land troops, they often found it difficult to subdue whole populations of natural biotics.

For a few days I dared to feel hope.

Then the Reapers changed their strategy. Perhaps they could not easily _capture_ asari populations for the harvest. They could still destroy cities, wreck infrastructure, and reduce farmland to radioactive waste. They could render asari worlds uninhabitable, and then wait for the inhabitants to die of poison, thirst, or simple starvation.

Apparently the Reapers did not even consider my people worth harvesting, if the process required any risk.

It worked. Asari could _resist_ the Reapers very effectively, but we lacked a certain force, a certain _toughness_. Unlike turians, krogan, or even humans, we could not easily take the fight _to_ the Reapers, _force_ them to give way and leave our worlds alone. All we could do was stand siege. As with my friends, hiding under a mountain on Illium, there could only be one possible end to that story.

I buried myself in work. I drove the Shadow Broker’s network – what remained of it – to produce intelligence my allies could use. I consulted with Samantha and Ashley. I spent more hours questioning Javik, extracting every scrap of knowledge he could offer. I slept in my office aboard _Normandy_ , with no company other than Glyph. When I slept at all.

Slowly, I felt the foundations of my soul weathering away.

* * *

**_6 June 2186, Kratera Mountains/Chalkhos_ **

Ashley led our whole combat team out to meet _Cannae_ ’s captain: James and the entire Marine section, Garrus, Javik, EDI’s mobile platform, even Dr. Chakwas came in case anyone needed medical attention. I followed as well, Vara, Nerylla, and Kyriake at my side.

Quintus Trevanian waited at the bottom of his ship’s cargo ramp, a tall, massive turian with piercing blue eyes and elaborate crimson paint on his face. With him . . .

_“James!”_

The burly Marine lieutenant didn’t _quite_ lose his composure, when a slim blue figure ran out of _Cannae_ ’s shadow and hurled itself into his arms. He pulled her off her feet, swung her around in a complete circle, and accepted her enthusiastic kiss.

I saw a lot of grins among the _Normandy_ crew. I confess I smiled slightly, despite myself.

“Something I need to know about, Lieutenant?” Ashley’s voice sounded grim, but anyone who knew her well would hear the amusement behind that.

“Sorry, Commander.” James set the asari in his arms down on her feet once more. “This is one of Liara’s people. Dr. Treeya Nuwani. A friend.”

Sergeant Tsege grunted in amused mockery. “I got friends too, but they don’t say hello like _that.”_

“I apologize, Commander Williams,” said Treeya. Her voice settled into its usual cool detachment, although she did _not_ move away from her human. “I haven’t had the chance to see James since before the war began.”

“I think we can let it pass.” Ashley turned to Quintus. “Commander Ashley Williams, Alliance Navy, Citadel Special Tactics and Reconaissance. You must be Captain Trevanian.”

“That’s right.” Quintus eagerly extended his hand for Ashley to shake. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Commander. Good to meet you at last.”

“Captain, we don’t have a lot of time before the Reapers decide to push up the valley again. Now that we’re here, can you tell me what’s going on?”

“Better if I show you. It’s just up here, a hundred meters or so.”

Quintus turned to lead our party up the slope, Ashley at his side. The rest of us fell in behind them.

I moved to walk beside James and Treeya, who suddenly showed every sign of being inseparable. “Treeya, I want to thank you for all the work you’ve done over the past few months. _Cannae_ has done more to recover Prothean inscriptions and artifacts than any other ship I know. Admiral Hackett tells me your finds have been of enormous assistance to the Crucible project.”

She nodded, a spark of enthusiasm showing. “Thank you, Liara. It _has_ been a very productive time.”

 _“Rrrh,”_ came a voice from behind me. “Is this _another_ asari with an unhealthy obsession with my people?”

I glanced over my shoulder, saw Javik a few paces behind us. “That _obsession_ may be the only reason we still have any chance at winning this,” I answered tartly. “Treeya, this is Javik.”

She stared for a moment, and then nodded. “I am pleased to meet you at last, Commander. I am actually not a specialist in the study of your people, but most of my work since before this war began has been under Dr. T’Soni’s direction.”

Javik blinked at the courtesy of her response, then gave a cynical grunt and turned away, his eyes as usual scanning the horizon for threats. He _did_ move up to walk at our side, in case any more of our conversation interested him.

Treeya cocked her head at me.

I shrugged. “He’s not exactly what we might have expected, but he’s a powerful ally.”

“Of course.”

“In the meantime, there’s another issue I would like you and your scientific team to think about.”

“This matter of the Intelligence that supposedly stands behind the Reapers?” she asked immediately.

James chuckled at my expression. “Watch out, Doc, my girl can give you a run for your money in the brains department.”

“So I see. Yes, Treeya, the priority on that item seems to be rising very quickly. Those of us aboard _Normandy_ still can find no evidence as to where that Intelligence may reside, or what, if anything, it has to do with the Crucible.”

“You will not learn those things by studying the relics of our Unity,” said Javik. “We knew of the Crucible from the _inusannon_ , but we knew nothing of any Intelligence guiding the Reapers.”

I frowned, thinking hard. “Didn’t you say once that the Crucible resembled a communications device? Something that could be used to alter the Reapers, change their programming at a fundamental level?”

“It is only a hypothesis.”

“But a good one,” said Treeya. “Especially if there _is_ a unitary Intelligence underlying their cognitive activity.”

“What does that signify, asari?”

“Well. Assume the Crucible is a programming device of some kind. We finish its construction, bring it into the vicinity of some of the Reapers, and trigger its function. It interacts with those Reapers, rewrites their software in some way . . .”

“I see.” Javik grunted. “All the rest of them still remain.”

“Precisely. From the inscriptions Dr. T’Soni and I have found that mention the Crucible, your people seemed to believe that they would only need to fire it _once_. If your hypothesis is correct, that implies they thought it would rewrite _all_ the Reapers at the same time. Unlikely, if they exist as true individuals, scattered across the galaxy. Much more likely, if some kind of unitary substrate influences them all.”

“That still leaves us the problem of finding it,” I pointed out. “Admiral Hackett believes his people will finish the Crucible within days. He no longer requires more Prothean lore to complete the project. Now what he needs is a _target.”_

“The Catalyst,” muttered Javik.

“Excuse me?”

“We do not yet understand this _Catalyst.”_ He stared at me with all four eyes. “The missing component. The _inusannon_ insisted upon it. The Crucible will not succeed if we cannot find it.”

“We don’t even know what it _is,”_ said Treeya, despairing. “The Intelligence itself? An interface point for the Intelligence? Something else entirely?”

“Add it to the list,” I sighed.

“It’s already a very long list.”

“Hey, _querida_ , don’t fret.” James put his arm over Treeya’s shoulders. “Between you, the Doc, and everyone else that’s working on this . . .”

“We might have _just_ enough brain-power to fail gloriously,” I muttered.

“Hah!” Javik barked. “That is the most Prothean thing I have ever heard you say, asari. There may be hope for you after all.”

I felt my lips twist in disgust. “Wonderful.”

Then we crested a ridge-line, and saw what had been concealed from us all this time.

Everything changed.

* * *

I saw thirty or so figures, each roughly bipedal, although they also had rows of secondary limbs down each side. They had filmy wings, and I saw one of them take a short flight through the air. Large, massive creatures, covered in chitin in shades of brown, red, or grey. Broad, flat heads. Four glowing, yellow eyes each. None of them showed any sign of a mouth, or of any systems for respiration or digestion. They moved about on a grassy meadow, flitting between mysterious pieces of equipment, each of them carrying a weapon on its back or at its side.

 _Collectors_.

Someone shouted. My corona blazed like a star, ready to spread mayhem. I could hear some of the Marines bring their rifles to bear, feel my acolytes calling up their own biotics, sense Javik preparing to go on the attack at my side.

One of the monsters turned to stare at us. Then another. Then all of them.

_“Stop!”_

A tall, slender figure, much more familiar: gangly limbs, huge black eyes, a long face tapering up to arching horns. A salarian ran to interpose himself between us and the Collectors.

“These creatures are not hostile!”

_What?_

“Dr. T’Soni. Commander Williams. _Please stand down_. A moment to explain!”

I dialed my corona back to _not quite ready to smash something_ , just a blue-white halo around my shoulders and arms, dark energy swarming around both hands. “Who are you?”

“Padel Voss. Citizen of the Chalkhos Republic. These creatures are our _guests_. I _insist_ you evacuate them.”

Ashley stepped forward, still staring at the inhabitants of the meadow. “Mr. Voss, I’m having a hard time understanding you. These are _Collectors_. Things like them murdered humans by the hundreds of thousands less than a year ago. They work for the Reapers.”

“Not these Collectors. Not anymore.”

She stared at the salarian in disbelief. “Okay, maybe you had better start from the beginning.”

“Glad to. Reapers arrived three days ago. Planetary defense inadequate. Enemy landed troops to round up population, look for experimental data.”

“What kind of experimental data?”

“The Chalkhos Republic permitted experiments in radical genetic engineering of sentient beings,” I explained. “It’s one reason why the asari who founded this colony came out into the Terminus Systems to begin with. The science they wanted to do was in violation of Citadel law.”

“Correct,” said Voss. “Collectors major part of Reaper invasion force. Specific interest in genetic science.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re protecting these Collectors,” Ashley objected. “Besides, if the Collectors made up a _major part_ of the invasion force, they should be here by the thousands. This is all we’ve seen.”

“Correct again. All other Collectors dead.”

“How?”

Voss smiled. He turned to the nearest Collector, made a sequence of gestures accompanied by a weird warbling noise.

The Collector responded. It turned away, walked several meters into the makeshift camp, and bent to pick up some heavy object. Then it returned, carrying the object with considerable care. A crystal sphere, perhaps half a meter across, its heart filled with a swirl of shifting light.

Ashley stared. “Damn. Is that . . .”

I already had my omni-tool active, scanning the Collector’s burden. “Yes, it is. One of Leviathan’s artifacts.”

 _“Leviathan,”_ said Voss slowly, rolling the word around his mouth. “Interesting name. Artifact was apparently already on Chalkhos. Had been here for some time. Not sure where it came from. Collectors encountered it. Came under its influence. Claim it _detached_ them from Reaper control. Most of them died as a result. Couldn’t adapt. These managed to survive transition. Fled to high country, with Reaper forces in pursuit. Reapers very anxious to recapture them, or kill them.”

“Mr. Voss, how do you know all this?” demanded Ashley.

The salarian shrugged. “Asked them.”

“So how do you communicate?”

“Ah. Not easy.” Voss grinned at us. “Bondmate figured it out, actually.”

“Padel is too modest,” said another voice. “I had an advantage. He has actually taught himself to speak their language, after a fashion.”

I turned, saw an asari approaching us from among the Collectors. She looked rather young, a maiden still, possibly within a decade or two of my own age. Slim, graceful, wearing black commando leathers and carrying a sidearm, obviously a huntress. Her most startling feature was her eyes, their color a pitch black, as if she lived in a constant state of joining. Holding her gaze was a disturbing experience.

“Bondmate,” announced Voss proudly. “Vasia Kyranis.”

“Don’t be afraid, Dr. T’Soni. I am not reading your mind,” said the huntress, reading my mind. “I can only detect the surface thoughts of those in my immediate vicinity. Including these Collectors.”

“How is this possible?” I asked, but I thought I already knew the answer.

“You already know the answer to that,” she said. “Genetic modification. Those of my lineage need not become intimate with others to see their surface thoughts. To communicate with them, even if we do not share a common language.”

“Telepathy?” mused Ashley.

“Not precisely,” said Vasia. “There is no mystical or non-physical mechanism involved. Simply an extension of mechanisms already existing in unmodified asari. Perhaps similar to methods the rachni use to communicate at much longer distances.”

Voss broke in. “Brings us back to my request. Vasia, her sisters, represent unprecedented success of controversial techniques. Asset of incalculable value against Reapers. Must be saved. Militia in valley committed to this.”

“And the Collectors?”

“They too are a priceless asset,” said Vasia. “They offer a great deal of information about their former masters. They also have access to technology centuries beyond our own. They must be evacuated from here, Commander, even if the last of our world perishes in the doing of it.”

“No,” said Javik.

Ashley’s head snapped around. She stared at the Prothean.

He had no eyes for any of us. He stepped forward, bristling with outrage, confronting the nearest Collector. “No. These creatures are an _abomination_. Let them die, just as all the others have already died!”

Ashley reached out to try to restrain him. “Javik . . .”

“No!” He drew his rifle, began to train it on the Collector.

The creature took no action to defend itself. It simply stood there, alien and monstrous, and waited to see what Javik would do.

“You are a Prothean,” said Vasia.

Javik stood still, every muscle vibrating with tension, his weapon not _quite_ aimed at the Collector’s head.

“You are filled with rage at what was done to your people,” Vasia continued. “Your hate for the Reapers is without limit.”

“Yes,” Javik panted.

“I understand. Does your hatred extend to other _victims_ of the Reapers?”

“They should have fought. They should have _died_ before they became tools for our enemy.”

Ashley shook her head. “Javik, I doubt any of these Collectors ever got a choice in the matter.”

“No,” Vasia agreed. “Their ancestors have been slaves for fifty thousand years. All the ones here were born slaves, so thoroughly subjugated that the very _idea_ of freedom never occurred to them. They only awakened to liberty less than two days ago. Only these few had the strength to survive the shock that killed thousands of their colleagues. Would you execute them, for the crime of never having had the _chance_ to be true Protheans?”

Slowly, Javik lowered his weapon, still staring at the Collector.

Only when the danger was over did the Collector move, slowly, extending its clawed hand about halfway to where Javik stood. Offering contact.

At first Javik seemed to recoil, rejecting the offer. Then he reached out, his hand shaking slightly, and touched the Collector.

His eyes snapped shut. Every muscle in his arm went rigid, seizing the Collector’s claw in a grip of iron.

A wild cry escaped his lips. He fell to his knees, still holding on.

I found myself running, threw myself to the ground beside him, supported him when he finally let go of the Collector and almost collapsed. “Javik?”

 _“Rrrh._ Today I have learned the bitterest lesson of all.”

“What is that?” I asked him gently.

He lifted his massive head and stared at me. “Hope.”

I felt my eyes go wide with surprise, hearing him say such an uncharacteristic thing.

“These creatures are not Protheans. They can never again be Protheans. They have been too thoroughly broken.” Javik turned to stare at the Collector again. “Yet they _remember_. They understand now what has been done to them. Their hatred for the Reapers rivals my own.”

“They will join us?”

“Yes. They will _fight_.” He gave me one of his rare, grim smiles. “More than that. If we somehow find victory in this war? As I said, these creatures can never again be Protheans. Yet they still have knowledge of the original genome. If they have time and peace, they may be able to reconstruct it.”

I gasped. “Oh Javik. Do you mean . . .”

“Yes. Perhaps one day, my people will live again. Do you see now why I find some small cause for hope? I who believed rage and vengeance were all that remained in the universe?” He shuddered, in the grip of some nameless emotion. _“Rrrh._ It feels like knives in my gut.”

“Good enough for me,” pronounced Ashley. “Captain Trevanian, let’s talk logistics.”

* * *

 _Cannae_ transferred the survivors of Taranis to _Normandy_ , freeing up just enough room on board for the Collectors and their equipment. While they loaded, our people descended the mountain, to link up with the doomed Chalkhos militia and keep the Reapers at bay.

A terrible fight followed, the worst ground combat I saw since Tuchanka. Fortunately, it didn’t last very long. Once _Cannae_ took to the sky, Quintus applied his own Thanix cannon to decimate the Reaper forces in front of us. He also lobbed another small object into the midst of the Reaper formation: the Leviathan artifact. Before long, the Reaper destroyer fled in headlong retreat, half its surviving ground force locked in combat with the other half.

That gave us time to disengage and return to _Normandy_ , and to take on as many evacuees as possible. No combatants boarded except Vasia Kyranis and her four part-sisters, and they did so only with extreme reluctance. The rest were asari children, adult asari too terribly wounded to continue fighting, and a few non-asari civilians.

Padel Voss did not evacuate. I saw his final moments with his bondmate, before she boarded _Normandy_ and he picked up a rifle to return to the fight. Once _Normandy_ was full to the bulkheads, the Chalkhos militia turned away with steel discipline, back to the final battle for their world.

Seventy-six survivors, out of what had once been a thriving asari world of sixty million.

I found myself almost blind with tears, blurring my last glimpse of the planet’s surface as the staging bay doors closed and _Normandy_ began to climb for the stars.

“Doctor?”

I turned, wiping angrily at my face. “What is it, Samantha?”

For a moment, I didn’t understand how she could be so radiantly happy. Then she handed me a datapad.

A message from the Citadel.

_From Shepard._

Too much. For a few moments I lost all control, stood weeping in Samantha’s embrace, while the survivors of Chalkhos milled about the staging bay around us.


	41. Reunion

**_8 June 2186, Presidium Docking Ring/Citadel_ **

When _Normandy_ docked, every single member of the crew who could be spared crowded into the CIC and the bridge corridor, waiting for the airlock to open. I hung back, standing in the shadows, sensing that this needed to be someone else’s moment.

Besides, I felt very, _very_ conflicted.

The airlock opened. A noise of celebration sprang up.

Shepard stepped onto the deck. He nodded to acknowledge the crew’s good cheer, but he had eyes for only one person in that moment.

Ashley Williams stood at rigid attention, making a salute so crisp I almost heard static electricity crackle in the air.

“Permission to come aboard?” said Shepard, returning the salute, his voice mild but charged with immense pride.

“Permission granted, sir, and more than welcome,” said Ashley.

“I relieve you, Commander.”

“I stand relieved. EDI, transfer all command codes back to Commander Shepard.”

“ _Logged,”_ said the AI. _“The Commanding Officer is aboard. Welcome home, Commander Shepard.”_

“Thank you, EDI.” Formalities complete, Shepard stepped forward and took Ashley’s hand. “Damn fine work, Ash. Your family should be proud of what you’ve accomplished.”

Her face didn’t change, still held under iron discipline, but I saw a suspicious shimmer in her eyes. “Thank you, Skipper.”

“How did you find your first command?”

Ashley took a deep breath. “A lot bigger than I expected.”

“I have bad news for you, Ash. They never get any smaller.” Shepard glanced around at all the others, his eyes searching for a moment, a small frown on his face. He raised his voice to address the entire crew. “Thank you all. We have a new mission, but first we have thirty-six hours of repair and resupply time. Shore leave schedules will be posted shortly. _Dismissed_.”

For a moment I felt tempted to go to him, but then his own people surrounded him. Half of the crew wanted to see him close at hand, to reach out and touch him. It actually surprised me for a moment. For months, I had been so bound up in my own feelings that I barely noticed the human crew’s response. If more of them had been from the first _Normandy_ I might have understood it, but most of them had only known him for a few weeks. Yet their devotion was palpable.

Garrus made it to the center of the crowd, possibly because the humans had a healthy respect for all his sharp edges and points. He bent to whisper something in Shepard’s ear.

Shepard turned his head slightly, found me standing at a distance.

All of the emotions at war in my heart came to a sudden resolution, like the sudden collapse of a quantum system’s state vector. I turned away, swallowing a sudden lump in my throat, and went in search of the lift.

* * *

He came looking for me, of course. At first, he and Ashley had other duties to attend to: off-loading the refugees from Chalkhos, arranging for resupply and crew rotation, setting up the leave schedule. Yet as soon as he could decently step away, he made his way down to my office on the crew deck.

I stood at my array of consoles and display screens, trying to correlate the activities of my agents, when the door opened.

 _“Greetings, Commander Shepard.”_ As always, Glyph’s voice was cheerful to a fault.

“Liara?”

_Goddess. What’s wrong with me? I don’t even want to look at him._

“Hello, Shepard.” My voice betrayed me, shaking where I had aimed for cool-and-detached.

Boots on the deck plating. A shadow over my shoulder. His scent, heavy male human. The sense of his body heat close by.

“Liara. What’s wrong?”

I shook my head, my jaw set in determination. “It’s nothing, Shepard. I have a lot of work to do.”

_Please don’t let him touch me._

A strong, heavy hand on my shoulder. An irresistible force pulling me away from the consoles, turning me to face him.

“Come on, T’Soni,” came his rough, gentle voice. “Open up.”

Just like that, all my unvoiced resolutions collapsed. I could feel Shepard’s surprise as he suddenly held a double armful of sobbing asari.

Fortunately the storm passed as quickly as it came. Half of my problem had been the tension between _wanting_ Shepard back and being _terrified_ of having him back. Giving in to his presence resolved the contradiction. I huddled in his arms like a child and fought the tears back down.

“Goddess, Shepard. I’m so _ashamed.”_

“What, of soaking my chest?” He actually sounded _amused_. “Not the first time, T’Soni, and I imagine it won’t be the last.”

I looked up into his face for the first time. It made me feel even worse. Behind the tolerant delight, behind the strength he tried to project for me, I could see the bone-deep fatigue. The war as a whole, his days on Omega, all of it had begun to wear him down.

“That’s not it, Shepard,” I whispered. “Or at least that’s the smallest part of it.”

“Come on.” Again the gentle but irresistible pressure, this time encouraging me to move back toward the living area. He got me seated on the couch, placed himself close by to half-face me and hold my hand. “Tell me about it.”

I heaved a gusty sigh. “Where to begin?”

“I would suggest at the beginning.”

I gave him an exasperated stare, not wanting to be _cheered up_ just then. “All right. Almost exactly a year ago. The sixteenth of June, 2185, by your calendar.”

“I don’t follow.”

“That was the day the Collectors first harvested a human colony world. Tirane. Thirty-five thousand people.”

He cocked his head at me, clearly thinking hard. “Go on.”

“From that day to this: Batarians, twenty-nine-point-eight billion. Humans, three-point-six billion. Turians, one-point-seven billion. Krogan, three hundred fifty million. Perhaps another billion if we total up all the elcor, hanar, volus, drell, and vorcha casualties. To say nothing of billions of refugees.”

He nodded soberly, still listening without comment.

I felt a burst of anger, wondering how he managed to be so _tolerant_ at that moment. “Shall I spell it out for you? In the last six days: _asari, one hundred twenty million_.”

“Yes, I’ve heard. I’m sorry.”

“You’re _sorry_.” I leaned away from him, feeling his touch like acid on my skin. “Shepard, this isn’t about you. Goddess, I _knew_ when I saw you again that you would be gentle and compassionate, and full of plans as to what we could do to save my people.”

“Then what is it about?” he asked, gently, full of compassion.

“Why is it that, in this entire terrible year, it’s only _now_ that I’m feeling the horror of it?”

His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he said nothing.

“Almost thirty billion batarians. Goddess, batarians are already almost _extinct_. I saw it all happen. I even predicted it, months ago.” My voice took on an acid tone. “But then I’ve never _liked_ batarians. Ugly creatures. Barbaric. They keep slaves. When you told me the Reapers had hit Khar’Shan, I shook my head and I moved on. The Shadow Broker had more important things to do. Such a pity.

“The day the Reapers hit Earth, I actually saw part of it on the news, before all the channels went down. I saw them attack cities I had visited, places where people I knew lived. At least I like humans. Some of you, anyway. But I shook my head and moved on. The Shadow Broker had _more important_ things to do. _Such a pity, and I hope Shepard is all right._

“Palaven. Tuchanka. _The Shadow Broker had more important things to do_. _Such a pity._

“And now, _now_ the Reapers are in _asari_ space. Now my people finally start to pay the blood price others have been paying for months. None of this should be new to me. So why is it only _now_ that I can hardly think straight, that I can’t sleep at night or keep food down during the day? Why is it only _now_ that the horror of it all is getting to me?”

I looked away, unable to hold his gaze another moment.

“Goddess, Shepard. Why are you still here? You should despise me. I think I’m starting to despise myself.”

“Why?” he asked mildly. “Because you’ve turned out to be a perfectly ordinary racist?”

I’m not sure what response I expected, but that was _not_ it. I stared at him despite myself.

Shepard shook his head ruefully, eased across the few centimeters between us, and wrapped me in his arms. He was quite deliberate and inexorable about it. I couldn’t resist.

“T’Soni, there is something I’ve never liked about asari, and I’m afraid even you display it from time to time.” He chuckled, a rumble deep in his chest. “As a species, you are _insufferably_ arrogant.”

I snorted, not sure whether to be outraged or to relax into his embrace. “Shepard!”

“Come on, you know it’s the truth.” I felt the warmth of his cheek on my crest. “Asari are so damn _proud_ of themselves: beautiful, elegant, long-lived, cultured, wealthy, scientifically brilliant, natural biotics, the whole sexy blue package. You’ve been more or less in charge of galactic civilization since before my own people figured out how to smelt iron. In all that time, no one has ever managed to knock you off that perch. A whole species of natural aristocrats.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“You too, T’Soni. You can’t hide it from the man who’s been in your head all this time. You _like_ being asari. You’re proud of your people, of everything they are, everything they’ve accomplished.”

I nodded. I thought I could see where he aimed, and I resolved to listen to the end. It might be uncomfortable, but I needed to hear it.

“So there it is,” he continued. “I guess it says something good about asari, that your pride doesn’t _usually_ lead you to be vicious or mean. I’ve met one or two asari like that. I just spent over a week with Aria, and God only knows _she_ is like that. But by and large you _like_ non-asari. Most of you get along fine with the rest of us, even if you do have a habit of looking down your noses at us like we’re smelly peasants. Humans with that kind of pride in their country, their religion, their social class, or their species . . . well, that way lies Cerberus, and they’re far from being the worst _my_ people have ever come up with.”

“Hmm.” I wriggled a little in his arms, getting comfortable. “Do you remember those two asari we met at Elijah Khan’s charity party, the night we were trying to track down the construct?”

Shepard groaned. “Oh. My. _God.”_

“Did you want to slap those smug little smiles off their faces?”

“I will admit, I was tempted.”

“Yes. Many asari _are_ like that. Too many.”

“Okay. But _you_ are _not_ like that. Most of the time.”

The momentary light mood fled. “I’m afraid I am. As you say, I try not to be _vicious_ or _mean._ Although I’ve become a lot more ruthless since I met you, bad influence that you are.”

He snorted in amusement.

“Yet while batarians, humans, and turians are being murdered horribly by the billions, I manage to keep functioning. Then the Reapers finally come for my own people, and I start falling apart.”

“I think you’re over-analyzing this, T’Soni.”

“How so?”

He shrugged. “It’s _natural_ to feel it more when people you think of as _your own_ are suffering. Remember that hierarchy of compassion your mother used to talk about?”

“Hmm.”

“It’s easiest to feel compassion for your own family, then your friends, then your distant acquaintances, then strangers who live in the same community, then foreigners, and finally those you see as completely alien. It’s how we’re all wired as social beings. If it hits you harder when the Reapers start harvesting asari, that doesn’t make you a monster. It just makes you human.”

_“Excuse me?”_

“You know what I mean. It’s the same for me. I worry about everyone who’s suffering in this war, but it’s Earth that gives me nightmares. As you know.” He moved slightly, so he could look down into my face. Suddenly I found I could look back without quite as much shame. “Liara, do you remember when we first met, first started to realize we were in love?”

“Yes. You were reluctant at first to join with me. You feared what I might see in your mind.”

“Yeah. The anger, the aggression. I thought of myself as a barbarian, someone who didn’t deserve a civilized life. Someone who didn’t deserve you.” He smiled warmly. “You managed to convince me otherwise.”

“And now it’s my turn, is that it?”

“Something like that.” He became serious once more. “The urge to hatred and violence, that’s the flaw at my core, the sin I have to struggle with every day. You help me with that. I’m a better person because you are with me. Maybe some form of arrogance or pride is your flaw. It doesn’t have to cripple you. Right now we can’t afford to _let_ it cripple you. Let me help.”

I gave up. Suddenly all the agony of guilt I had been feeling for days felt _smaller_. I tilted my head back and kissed him. “All right.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when this happened to you. I promise I’m not going to go away again. I’m with you until the bitter end.”

I nodded and snuggled close, even though his last words gave me an uneasy chill. “All right,” I said again.

* * *

**_8 June 2186, Silversun Strip, Kithoi Ward/Citadel_ **

Shepard and I managed to steal about twelve hours away from _Normandy_ , although we could reserve little of that time just for ourselves.

We met Jacob Taylor for drinks, the former Cerberus operative seeming dazed at his good fortune: a cause for which to fight, a wife, and a child on the way. I did penance by simply _listening_ while Shepard and Taylor talked, taking an interest in this man I barely knew. This real human life, not an abstraction or a cold statistic.

Afterward we met Jack at the Armax Arena, where she had reserved time on the combat sim for us. I demurred, not feeling up to play-combat just then. Even so, I stood in the stands and managed to cheer, as Shepard and his friend thrashed a small army of holographic Cerberus troops. Of course, the extranet news had reported how well Jack’s students performed in support of Alliance troops. As a result, “Commander Shepard and the Psychotic Biotic” proved a _very_ popular team for the galactic audience. I spoke to Jack for a few minutes afterward, amazed at how _happy_ she seemed to be, in her own cynical way. War seemed to agree with her.

Back at the Admiral’s apartment, Treeya and I sat conversing while our humans prepared dinner. James turned out a _very_ good cook, while Shepard could at least chop vegetables and stir the pot as instructed. After a fine meal, rather than force our friends to leave, Shepard casually offered them the guest room for the night. This caused James to turn red and Treeya to stutter nervously, but they accepted the offer. I think they became intimate for the first time that evening, although Treeya has been silently reserved about it ever since, and I respect her too much to pry.

Shepard and I retired to the master bedroom for the night, where for once we did _not_ make love before sleep. I felt much better, but I think Shepard sensed my remaining heart-sickness and chose not to complicate matters. Instead, he held me close and we talked about other things. 

“You never did tell me how things went on Omega,” I murmured.

“Hmm.” Shepard’s hand moved, ghosting over my outer thigh and hip. “I got to spend a lot more time with Aria T’Loak than I ever wanted, that’s how things went.”

“Tell me about her,” I suggested. “I have dossiers piled high, but it’s remarkably hard to read her personality from a distance.”

“Hard to do up close, too.” He took a deep breath, the heat of his exhalation brushing across the back of my neck. “You know, she’s supposed to be this terrible ogre: the Pirate Queen of Omega. She’s certainly one of the most dangerous individuals I’ve ever met. But somehow I’m a lot less worried about her than I used to be.”

I waited.

“Don’t get me wrong. Aria has a very strong personality. She has a great deal of cunning. She is downright _terrifying_ on the battlefield. If something Wrex told me is true, he once went up against her for _days_ and managed nothing better than a draw. On Omega, she and I had one last battle in Afterlife, just before we got to Petrovsky. The two of us, none of her troops, against a whole army of elite Cerberus soldiers and those nasty _adjutant_ creatures.”

He _shivered_. I could feel it all along my body.

“Once I got her free from a trap, she tore Cerberus to _shreds_. I’ve never seen more combat skill, more raw biotic power, and more sheer vicious killer instinct all in one package.”

“You sound as if you admire her.”

“In a twisted sort of way, yes. I can see how she got to the top in Omega. It’s a place perfectly suited for her skill set.” His hand wandered up to brush across my belly, gather me another centimeter closer. “But she has a lot of flaws too. She has _no_ long-term strategic sense. She’s utterly impulsive, always acting on raw instinct and emotion. She jumps to conclusions and never questions her own prejudices. And she is not _nearly_ as intelligent as she thinks she is.”

I chuckled softly. “That’s consistent with my network’s assessment of her.”

“She likes to say _don’t fuck with Aria_ ,” Shepard said. “It’s true. Mess with her directly and you’ll pull back a bloody stump where your gun hand used to be. But if you understand her, what makes her tick, you can reason with her. Manipulate her, if you have to. Petrovsky understood that, which is how he got the better of her so often.”

“It’s a good thing for Aria that she had you along, then.”

“Yeah.” His voice took on a degree of _satisfaction_. “She has her skill set, I have mine, and you have yours. If we ever get into a direct conflict with Omega, I’m reasonably confident of the outcome.”

“Fortunately she’s an ally for now. I see you managed to talk her into handing Petrovsky over to your custody.”

“Yes. Although not until after she had nearly strangled the man with her bare hands.” He paused. “By the way, there’s one thing that wasn’t in my report.”

“Oh?”

“When we weren’t busy fighting for our lives, Aria also spent most of the week trying to seduce me.”

After a frozen moment, I squirmed around in his arms to stare wide-eyed into his face. “You’re joking.”

“Well, you know how Aria is. She has all the feminine mystique of a chainsaw. Still, I’ve picked up a few tricks from you since we started sharing mind-space. Like reading asari intonation, facial expression, and body language. She threw interest-signals my direction at every opportunity.” He cleared his throat and took on an odd expression, half pride and half severe embarrassment. “Also, she kissed me. Quite thoroughly.”

“She _didn’t.”_

“She did. Right after I told her that if she didn’t let me have Petrovsky, I would kick her ass halfway to the Far Rim.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed out loud. “Oh Goddess. That’s Aria to the life. You should be honored. You must be on the list of people that she respects.”

“Actually, I think she was curious. You may not realize it, T’Soni, but you’re on that list too. She doesn’t like you in the slightest, but she doesn’t hold you in contempt, and that puts you several steps above just about everyone else in the galaxy. I think she wonders what you and I see in each other.”

“Well.” I stretched slightly and kissed him, doing my best to push any memory of Aria T’Loak _right_ out of his head. “That is probably something she will _never_ comprehend.”


	42. The Nightfall War

**_10 June 2186, Dholen System Space_ **

“ _Two minutes to dock,”_ said Joker from the bridge.

I used our sensors to examine the quarian diplomatic ship as it approached. Something I saw drove me to emit a cynical chuckle.

Shepard glanced at me. “What is it, Liara?”

Rather than answer him, I touched a control. “EDI, are you seeing the same thing I am in the quarian ship’s emissions signature?”

“ _Since I am not sure of your referent, I cannot say. However, the ship’s signature is quite unusual. I speculate that the quarians have installed Tantalus drive technology, or something similar, to give their ship advanced stealth capabilities.”_

I gave Shepard an amused glance.

Garrus stirred in his seat and rumbled a turian chuckle. “I seem to recall a certain young quarian on her Pilgimage who spent a _lot_ of time down in the engine room on the old _Normandy_. Then again, after Cerberus rebuilt the ship. Looks like she took good notes.”

  1. _Normandy_ and the quarian ship made contact.



Before long, we heard footsteps in the corridor outside.

Not _enough_ footsteps. Shepard frowned.

Then the door opened, and three quarians appeared. Two of them were males, no one I recognized, carrying sidearms and behaving like an honor guard. The third . . .

“Tali’Zorah vas Normandy, reporting for duty.” The little quarian paused at the top of the steps, glancing around the War Room.

“Tali!” Suddenly Shepard’s voice was as warm and enthusiastic as I had heard it in days. “It’s _damn_ good to see you again. Although we were told to expect the full Admiralty Board.”

“I’m sorry, Shepard.” In contrast, Tali sounded weary, almost _miserable_. “None of the other admirals could be spared.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Shepard did a double-take. “Wait. You said _other_ admirals?”

Tali finished stepping down, moving to lean heavily on the holo-display console with both hands. “Yes. A month ago I was appointed to my father’s seat on the Admiralty Board.”

“That’s wonderful news,” said Garrus. “You must be the youngest member of the Board in quarian history.”

“Not quite.” Tali shrugged. “The Zorah name helped. Besides, all that experience aboard _Normandy_ finally seems to mean something in quarian politics. I’m an expert on the geth. Important, now that we’re at war with them again.”

“ _What?”_ Shepard stared at Tali in disbelief.

Tali nodded, apparently expecting his reaction. “We’re trying to take back our homeworld.”

“Good Lord, you’re throwing yourselves at the geth _again?_ I was hoping for your help against the Reapers. If _they_ aren’t defeated, your feud with the geth is irrelevant.”

“I know. I had better brief you, and then you need to decide whether _Normandy_ will help. We’ve gotten ourselves into a mess, and there isn’t much time.”

Shepard visibly fought down a thousand questions. “All right.”

Tali worked with her omni-tool, interfacing with the War Room displays.

“It started after my father’s death,” she began. “You remember the trial, how all the different factions used it to push their own political agendas.”

Shepard and Garrus both nodded grimly. I remembered the story, had Shepard’s memories of the experience in my mind. Admiral Zaal’Koris had indicted Tali of endangering the Migrant Fleet by sending active geth components back to her father, resulting in a geth takeover of a lab ship named _Alarei_. During a break in the trial proceedings, Shepard and Tali discovered that Rael’Zorah had caused disaster, bypassing basic safety precautions while performing ethically questionable experiments. Shepard had suppressed the information at Tali’s request, preserving her father’s reputation, winning her acquittal through a display of courtroom rhetoric instead.

“Afterward, Admiral Xen boarded the _Alarei_ and recovered pieces of my father’s work. She came up with a new approach. An ECM technique, something to scramble geth sensors and command-and-control signals. Kind of like shining a bright, flickering light in an organic’s eyes. It’s the best weapon we’ve developed against the geth in three hundred years.”

“Which made the potential rewards of a new war too good to pass up,” said Shepard.

“Right.” Tali shook her head ruefully. “By the time I got promoted, Admirals Gerrel and Xen had already convinced a narrow majority of the Conclave to support a war vote. Admiral Koris stood opposed, but Admiral Raan stayed neutral and the war party took the initiative. There wasn’t anything I could do. I accepted the position to try and slow down some of the worst ideas.”

Shepard nodded, looking sympathetic. “I would have done the same.”

“I know. I suppose that’s the other reason I did it. _What would Shepard do?_ Not that I’ve been able to make much difference so far,” she said bitterly.

“So what’s the situation?”

“It’s bad.” Tali tapped at her omni-tool, and a map sprang up in our holo-display. We saw the local neighborhood, a section of the galaxy’s Outer Arm, out to about five thousand light-years from Rannoch. Red dots scattered across the field, indicating major geth installations and industrial facilities. Four of these, among the brightest, acquired bright blue circles. “It started seventeen days ago, with time-on-target strikes against four geth systems. Xen’s technique worked perfectly. We destroyed comm centers, factories, shipyards, millions of individual geth platforms. As soon as we had secured our flanks, the Fleet concentrated and moved on Tikkun.”

“Sounds like you were off to a good start,” said Shepard cautiously. I knew he felt concern for _both_ sides in this conflict, the geth as well as Tali’s people. “What happened next?”

“For a while, everything seemed to go well. Xen’s technique continued to work. The geth fleet withdrew to the outer system and left almost everything open to us. We found the scaffolding for some _enormous_ construction project in interplanetary space. . .”

“A Dyson sphere,” said Garrus. “Legion mentioned that the geth wanted to build one to house all of their runtimes in close proximity, to create the ultimate hive mind. It called the idea _their future_.”

“Well, we smashed their future,” said Tali, her voice flat. “That may have been a mistake.”

“How did they react?” asked Shepard.

“Several hours ago, their fleet came back in and engaged us. Xen’s technique no longer worked. Worse, the geth showed unusual levels of tactical coordination. Suddenly they have the advantage, and they press it ruthlessly.”

“Spirits,” muttered Garrus. “Tali, that sounds horribly familiar.”

“Yes.” The quarian tapped at her omni-tool again, and the map zoomed in, showing us a tactical plot of the situation in the Tikkun system.

My eyes widened. I had gained some experience in reading military situation maps over the past few years. If I was any judge . . .

_The quarians have walked into a potential massacre._

“We’ve traced a change in geth command-and-control to _this_ ship,” said Tali, zooming in once more to show us one icon in the middle of the ongoing battle. “A geth dreadnought, powerful, heavily armored and shielded. It’s transmitting a signal to the entire geth fleet.”

A signal-processing display appeared, tracing the dreadnought’s emissions over time: a tremendously dense and complex signal, running thousands of channels simultaneously.

“That’s a Reaper signal,” I said, very certain.

“I concur,” said Tali. “We pushed them too hard. We may have destroyed the geth _heretics_ when we attacked their command station last year, but the main body of the geth must still have some way to contact the Reapers. They’re getting help, and my people are on the verge of a catastrophe as a result.”

Shepard shook his head wearily. “All right. We can talk _later_ about the strategic implications of starting an irrelevant war, against a potential ally, after the Reapers have arrived and are already in the process of destroying galactic civilization. Preferably with the entire Admiralty Board here to listen to my remarks on the subject.”

Some spark of amusement altered Tali’s dejected body language, returned some of her old animation. “I would be glad to see that. I remember how much fun it was the last time I watched you shout at the admirals.”

“Too bad they didn’t listen. The question is, what can _Normandy_ do _now_ to get you out of this mess?”

Tali pointed into the display. “This dreadnought is the key. If we can use your stealth capabilities to get through the battle, infiltrate the ship, and shut down the Reaper command signal . . .”

“That takes the pressure off the quarian fleet. At which point you disengage, make for the nearest mass relay, and _retreat.”_

“I don’t know if Gerrel and Xen will show such good sense, but at least we can try.”

“All right.” Shepard keyed the internal comm. “Joker, EDI, take us to the Tikkun system as quickly as possible. Put us on high alert before we hit the mass relay. There’s probably a main fleet engagement going on between the quarians and the geth. Tali will give you a tactical assessment and targeting.”

_“Got it, Commander. Time to be big damn heroes again.”_

“So it would seem.”

_“Whoa. We’re planning to go tippy-toe through a battle and sneak onto a geth dreadnought? Man, don’t the geth ever use visual sensors?”_

Shepard chuckled. “No windows, remember? Structural weakness.”

_“Yeah, like the geth are saying, ‘those organics would never be stupid enough to try the no-windows trick twice.’“_

“Just take us in, Joker.”

_“Aye-aye."_

* * *

**_10 June 2186, Tikkun System Space_ **

_Normandy_ dropped into normal geometry, in the midst of utter chaos.

Quarian and geth fleets, maximally engaged, hammered at each other with every available weapon. They filled a billion cubic kilometers with projectiles and laser beams. Joker eased us into the midst of the storm, maneuvering with excruciating care. Somehow we threaded our way into the heart of the geth formation, without eating a missile from either side.

Shepard crossed a geth boarding tube despite its severe damage, reaching an access point just before most of the tube broke free and tumbled away into space. Then he opened a second airlock to admit Garrus and Tali, and the three of them proceeded on their mission.

I remained behind.

“I have something else for you to do, Liara.” Shepard had looked concerned, but also very firm. “We don’t have nearly enough information about the situation here. We didn’t even know that the quarians had kicked off this war until we got here.”

“I know.” I had glanced away, ashamed to be making excuses. “The quarians are very insular, and most of the ones willing to sell information are renegades, not worth the trouble. It’s always been difficult for the Shadow Broker to place informants in the Migrant Fleet. Even the yahg never managed to get much visibility into their community.”

“Well, you may not have informants, but as I recall you _do_ have a few friends. You also have Traynor and EDI to call on, now that we’re in range of the Fleet’s comm channels. Get me some data to work with. I want to know what the quarians are thinking. Not just the admirals, but the ordinary people. I need to know if there’s any hope of prying them away from this crusade against the geth, and pointing them at the real enemy.”

So while Shepard and his friends made their way through a geth flagship, Samantha and I did intelligence work.

In fact, I had several quarian friends, former T’Soni Analytics employees who had returned home after their Pilgrimages. Unfortunately none of them could talk just then. All of them were highly skilled technicians, on combat duty during the battle. I inserted a few messages into quarian comm channels for Arin, Keetah, and a few others, but I didn’t expect any of them to respond until the quarian fleet had disengaged.

We had better luck with comm intercepts. The quarians used very good encryption, but they didn’t use it for _every_ transmission. We could read thousands of low-priority messages, personal chatter among low-ranking quarians while they went about their business. With help from EDI, we quickly sorted the messages by their semantic content, and performed a variety of analytics to “take the temperature” of the quarian populace.

What we discovered dismayed me.

At that time, the quarian people organized themselves into four divisions, each under the control of one of the admirals. The Civilian Fleet was the largest division, centered on the three enormous _liveships_ where most of the non-combatant population resided. Patrol Fleet and Heavy Fleet served as a military arm, protecting the rest of the quarian population and projecting force as needed. Special Projects was the smallest division, dedicated to technical research and the acquisition of new ships.

Admiral Zaal’Koris vas Qwib Qwib led the Civilian Fleet. Once a political enemy of Tali’s father, since Rael’Zorah’s death he had softened toward Tali, and he had supported her appointment as an admiral. He had staunchly opposed the war, the only admiral to do so. Unfortunately war sentiment had been present, if not strong, even among the Civilian Fleet. Admiral Koris had been overruled in the Conclave, forced to commit himself to a war he did not want.

Admiral Shala’Raan vas Tonbay directed the Patrol Fleet, a close friend of Tali’s family, a political light-weight but widely respected for her wisdom and impartiality. She had been reluctant to begin the war against the geth, but she certainly had no love for the synthetics, and now that the war had begun she felt entirely committed to winning it.

Admiral Han’Gerrel vas Neema commanded the Heavy Fleet, the most powerful military force and the population most enthusiastic about retaking Rannoch from the geth. He had perhaps the simplest personality among the admirals: an attack beast, notorious for causing trouble on the fringes of Council space. He led the war party, dedicated to destroying the geth no matter the cost.

Admiral Daro’Xen vas Moreh oversaw Special Projects. My friend Arin had grown up aboard the _Moreh_ under her command, and he had given me a clear picture of her personality: technically brilliant, cold, ruthless, and completely committed to destroying the geth. Although she had little patience for politics and tended to defer to Admiral Gerrel, she felt even more enthusiasm for the war.

Four admirals with significant political weight. We had to discount our friend Tali, too young and in office for too short a time to develop any influence. Two in favor of the war. One neutral, but willing to be swayed. A fourth staunchly opposed. Looking only at the admirals, the situation was clear: two to one in favor of war, and so war began.

Looking at the _population_ , the picture seemed quite different.

The Civilian Fleet’s crew outnumbered the other three divisions put together. Most young quarians grew up aboard the liveships, only transferring out to the Patrol Fleet, the Heavy Fleet, or Special Projects once they completed their Pilgrimage and came of age. Many quarians remained in the Civilian Fleet all their lives. These stay-at-homes tended to conservatism, reluctant to support radical change or bold strategic maneuvers.

In fact, during the actual vote in Conclave, the Civilian Fleet had supported the war by about a five percent margin. Clearly even those conservative, non-combatant quarians hated the geth and wanted their homeworld back. Presented with a glowing picture of easy victory, they responded. At first, apparent success muted any objections. But in the last thirty hours, with the tide of battle turning decisively against them . . .

Samantha and I found evidence for a _lot_ of angry quarians in the Civilian Fleet. If the Migrant Fleet as a whole survived this battle at all, there would be hard questions asked, and the possibility of an open schism.

* * *

Submerged in our work, Samantha and I barely noticed the battle around us. A surge of excited conversation put an end to that.

“EDI, what’s happening?” I asked.

_“The geth dreadnought’s shields, engines, and attitude control have all gone offline, Doctor. Quite suddenly, in fact. It appears the Commander’s team has been successful.”_

I keyed up a comm channel I had been ignoring for the past hour: quarian command-level chatter. I found I had little trouble distinguishing the voices. Aside from Tali, I had never met any of the quarian admirals, but I had Shepard’s memory of his encounter with them.

Shala’Raan: _“The Reaper signal is offline. All ships, prepare to disengage.”_

Han’Gerrel: _“Belay that! We have to destroy that dreadnought while it’s vulnerable. Heavy Fleet, move to intercept and attack. Raan, I’ll need your ships to keep the fighters off our back.”_

Shala’Raan: _“Don’t be absurd. We must commit to escorting the liveships to safety. We agreed to a full disengagement if Shepard was successful.”_

Han’Gerrel: _“I didn’t agree to anything of the sort. To leave the geth alone, give them time to recover the Reaper signal? That’s what will truly put the liveships at risk. I’m moving in. Follow me.”_

Shala’Raan: _“Damn you, Gerrel!”_

Angry human voices in the CIC. I looked at the tactical plot, and my heart leaped into my throat.

The Heavy Fleet was _firing_ on the drifting geth dreadnought.

With Garrus, Tali, and Shepard _still on board._

Shala’Raan: _“Civilian Fleet, can you disengage without assistance?”_

Silence, for a long moment.

Shala’Raan: _“Civilian Fleet, do you copy?”_

Then a new voice, not one of the admirals: _“This is Kar’Danna vas Rayya. Admiral Koris led a counterattack to take some pressure off the liveships. His ship was badly damaged and has gone down on Rannoch. We have not yet been able to contact him.”_

Shala’Raan: _“Captain Danna, take temporary command of the Civilian Fleet. Get the liveships and your other colleagues to safety. Patrol Fleet will send a wing to assist.”_

Han’Gerrel: _“I need that support, Raan!”_

Shala’Raan: _“You need to cease fire on that dreadnought! Our allies and one of our admirals remain on board!”_

I watched the tactical plot, one hand clenched so hard on the edge of the console that my joints ached.

The Heavy Fleet did not stand down.

_Damn them. Damn them to the abyss!_

Then another voice broke in, and I nearly collapsed in relief.

“ _Shepard to_ Normandy _. We’re almost ready to evacuate.”_

Ashley jabbed at her console. “That’s great news, Skipper. Where can we pick you up?”

“ _Negative. Don’t approach this ship, it’s about to go up in smoke. We’re evacuating aboard a geth fighter. Here’s the transponder code.”_

I exchanged an incredulous glance with Samantha.

 _How is Shepard piloting a_ geth _fighter?_

“Roger that.” Ashley switched channels. “This is Commander Ashley Williams to all quarian ships. Our infiltration team will be leaving the geth dreadnought aboard a captured enemy fighter. I’m transmitting the transponder code now. All ships are advised not to target that fighter under any circumstances. _Normandy_ is prepared to defend it with deadly force.”

Han’Gerrel: _“You would fire on quarian ships?”_

“To ensure the safety of our own people, once they’re clear of the valid military target? I would _absolutely_ fire on any quarian ship careless enough to put them at risk.” Ashley’s voice became very cold. “If you doubt it, Admiral, I recommend you _do not try me.”_

Admiral Gerrel made no response. On the other hand, when we saw the tiny icon appear that represented Shepard’s fighter, no quarian ship made a move against it.

About eight seconds later, the dreadnought exploded. I gasped, but Shepard’s icon showed no signs of damage.

While he flew out toward our position, the geth fleet began a full retreat. The quarians followed suit, disengaging from the battle and going into a solar orbit a few million kilometers beyond that of Rannoch. Not even Gerrel’s ships tried to pursue the departing geth.

For my part, I didn’t relax until _Normandy_ intercepted Shepard’s fighter and I could go down to see him. At which point I also saw how Shepard had managed to make his escape.

_Goddess. This is going to be difficult to explain to the admirals._


	43. Rannoch

**_11 June 2186, Tikkun System Space_ **

Several hours of careful negotiations passed, before Shepard convinced the quarian admirals to meet aboard _Normandy_ and discuss next steps. While Admirals Gerrel, Raan, Xen, and Zorah gathered in the War Room, Shepard took a call from Admiral Hackett. When he emerged, I bit my lip in chagrin.

_There’s a storm gathering on his face. Bad news must have come from Earth. The admirals had better step carefully with him._

“Commander Shepard,” said Raan, the first to notice his presence. “Thank you for hosting this conference.”

Shepard stopped at the top of the stairs, looking down at the quarians. He said nothing for a long moment, only folded his arms and fixed a cold blue stare upon them.

“New Delhi,” he said at last.

Tali shook her head and looked down at the deck, her body language projecting dejection and shame. The other admirals only looked puzzled.

“I just received word, admirals. The Reapers have destroyed New Delhi.” Shepard took one step down, then two, moving closer to the quarians but keeping some of his advantage in height. “I don’t suppose any of you have heard of the place. It’s a city on Earth. Capital of the most populous nation-state we humans have. Last year, over thirty million people lived in the city’s extended metropolitan area. Thirty. Million. People.”

He stepped down onto the deck, finally putting himself on a level with the admirals. On the other hand, he stalked over to Admirals Gerrel and Xen in particular, leaning forward, pushing his grim face into their personal space.

“As of yesterday, New Delhi is so much _rubble._ ” He glared back and forth between Gerrel and Xen. “Last year, I warned you that the Reapers were coming. I warned you that when they arrived, they would seek to destroy _all of us_. They would not distinguish between quarians and humans. They would not distinguish between quarians and _geth_. I nearly _begged_ you to avoid a war that would only serve to distract all of us from the real enemy.”

“Shepard . . .” Admiral Gerrel began.

“I do _not want to hear it_ , Admiral.” Shepard stepped closer yet, his face mere centimeters away from Gerrel’s visor. “You lost your homeworld three hundred years ago, and you’ve suffered for that ever since. I appreciate that. Under most circumstances, I would do everything in my power to assist you. I have done just that in the past. But _I_ am losing _my_ homeworld, _right now_. I am fighting the Reapers, _right now_. I am doing my best to prevent them from coming for the quarian people, _right now_.”

“Admirals, I am strongly tempted to go home and fight the war I _should_ be fighting. At this moment, I am having difficulty _giving a damn_ how the geth deal with people selfish and _stupid_ enough to do what you have done.”

He turned his back on Gerrel, moved back to a more neutral position, turned once more to face all the admirals more impartially.

“But the terrible fact is this: with the Reapers at the gates, none of us can afford to work at cross-purposes. So _Normandy_ is going to stay. I, and all of my people, will do our best to resolve this war, so that we can all turn and fight the _real_ enemy.”

“Thank you, Commander Shepard,” said Gerrel. “I don’t like what you just said, but I respect you for saying it. It’s good to see there’s at least _one_ other soldier in the room. And when we’ve won this war, I’m sure we’ll do everything we can to help in the fight against the Reapers. Now, if you’re done giving speeches, I need to get back to the Heavy Fleet. Raan, we’ll talk later.”

Gerrel turned, every line of his body stiff with injured pride, and stalked out of the War Room. He brushed Tali aside in his haste to leave.

 _“Bosh’tet,”_ Tali muttered as he disappeared.

Raan shook her head and turned toward us, taking on a conciliatory stance. “Commander Shepard. You must understand, the geth inflicted very heavy casualties before you disabled the Reaper command signal. We nearly lost everything.”

Shepard nodded. “I get it. When a battle plan suddenly goes south, it’s tempting to lose your head.”

“If I understand your metaphors, yes, I agree. But now we can think things through. Anything we decide here, Admiral Gerrel will fall in line. Once we have won this war . . .”

“You mistake me, Admiral Raan,” Shepard interrupted, his voice cold as ice once more. “I did not say I would necessarily help you _win_ your war against the geth. All I said was that I will help you _resolve_ it.”

Raan paused, tilting her helmet in confusion.

“Legion?” Shepard called.

The geth platform emerged from the QEC room, where it had awaited Shepard’s signal. Without hesitation, it stepped down into the War Room to stand beside Shepard.

“Shepard-Commander. We are prepared to offer assistance.”

The reaction was everything Shepard might have hoped for, even if only two of the quarians were surprised. Raan and Xen lost all control of their body language, staring at the geth with shock and rage, both of them looking as if they wanted a weapon.

“What the _hell_ is this?” demanded Raan.

“Introductions are in order,” Shepard rapped. “This is Legion: a mobile platform hosting well over a thousand individual geth runtimes. Independent, very intelligent, and highly capable. It helped me to defeat the Collectors, it opposes the geth alliance with the Reapers, and it is offering friendship and alliance.”

“This is a _fascinating_ prototype,” Xen observed, her shock fading. “With some study, I may be able to use it to find new vulnerabilities in the geth consensus.”

Shepard glared. “I don’t think you heard me clearly, Admiral. _Legion is a friend._ It helped me in the war against the Collectors.”

“So did your sidearm, Commander. Are you about to declare ties of friendship with it as well?”

“I don’t think you want to continue this line of thought, Admiral.” Shepard loomed over Xen. “Legion is a sentient being. It _is_ my friend. More importantly, it’s our best source of information about the geth.”

Xen put hands on hips, as if lecturing an unruly student. “The scientific benefits . . .”

_“Are off the table.”_

Xen made a huffing sound, but she could see Shepard would not be moved. She backed away.

“Very well,” said Raan, turning to Legion. “What can you tell us about the geth? How will they react without Reaper guidance?”

“You are operating under a false assumption,” said the geth. “You have cut off long-range control, but the Old Machines have placed a base on Rannoch for short-range direction.”

“The geth _still_ have Reaper upgrades?” asked Raan fearfully.

“Correct. They are currently disorganized, but given time to assimilate the short-range signal, they will recover.”

 _“Keelah._ We must warn the fleet. Xen, coordinate with Gerrel. _Move!”_

Xen nodded and hurried to depart.

“It sounds as if any resolution to this conflict will involve disabling the new Reaper signal,” said Shepard. “Where is this base?”

“Unknown,” answered Legion.

“Find it.”

“Acknowledged. We do have the location of a geth installation that is of immediate relevance to the tactical situation. A server from which fighter squadrons are controlled. These squadrons are in a position to threaten quarian liveships.”

“I’ll add it to the list of objectives. Admiral Raan, I understand one of your colleagues went down on Rannoch in the last stages of the battle yesterday?”

“Yes. Admiral Koris, the commander of the Civilian Fleet.”

I finally saw an opportunity to step in. “Shepard, the liveships and the Civilian Fleet as a whole are critical. I haven’t been able to get through to most of my quarian friends yet, but I’m very concerned about some of the message traffic I’ve seen this morning. Samantha and I have analyzed the situation, and we concur that the Civilian Fleet is nearly at a breaking point. Without Admiral Koris in command, the civilian captains feel a great deal of pressure from their people to disengage and scatter. If that happens, it may take weeks to get the Migrant Fleet to regroup.”

“If it can be done at all,” said Raan, concerned. “If the Civilian Fleet breaks? Commander, it could be the beginning of the end for the quarian people, no matter what happens with respect to the geth.”

“Liara, would you say the Civilian Fleet is important to any resolution of this conflict that _doesn’t_ end in the destruction of one side or the other?”

“My assessment is that it is absolutely _vital.”_

“Understood. Admiral Raan, I’d like to invite you to remain on board _Normandy_ to coordinate with the rest of the Migrant Fleet. I think you’ll find our War Room facilities and our intel feeds very useful.”

Raan nodded. “Gladly, Commander.”

“Liara, can Traynor handle your end of things for a while?”

My eyes widened with surprise. “I think so . . .”

“Then you and Garrus are with me. Tali, would you be willing to help rescue Admiral Koris?”

“Certainly, Shepard.”

“Right.” Shepard’s face was already full of that tense exaltation it always carried, just before an important mission. “Let’s move.”

* * *

**_11 June 2186, Teeras Coastline, South Continent/Rannoch_ **

I didn’t expect Rannoch to be beautiful.

On approach to Admiral Koris’s last known position, we discovered why no one had been able to contact him directly: a geth jamming tower, protected by AA batteries. Cortez had to evade fire and set us down at a distance from the tower, which Shepard resolved to take out on foot.

The four of us emerged from the shuttle into evening twilight, fresh sea air, stars and a silver moon overhead, little avians moving about in great flocks. Rannoch’s beauty seemed austere, a thing of rock formations and stubborn plant life, but real all the same. I looked about with deep appreciation. Even Shepard and Garrus took a moment to savor their first sight of Rannoch.

Tali, of course, stood in awe. “To be standing here, in the land of my ancestors . . .”

For once, Garrus spoke with warmth and not a trace of irony. “I’m glad you got the chance, Tali.”

“It’s interesting to see so much life here,” I murmured.

Talk glanced at me. “What do you mean?”

“Well, think about it. The geth are machines. They’re perfectly happy on barren worlds and asteroids. Even hard vacuum and deadly radiation don’t bother them.” I looked around. “Many millions of geth platforms exist on Rannoch, maybe _billions_ , with all the resource extraction and industry that implies. The natural, organic ecology shouldn’t still be here. Unless they took special care to preserve it.”

“Hmm.” Tali looked around as well, thoughtful now. “You may be right. You’re wondering why they bothered.”

“Yes. There may be more to geth intentions than we realized.”

We moved forward, tracing a path along steep hillsides and bluffs, the sea always visible a short distance to our right. Very soon we became aware of geth, not close but not nearly far enough away. We would have to fight our way through soon enough.

“I hope the admiral is all right,” I murmured, after another scan with my omni-tool.

“There are so many geth here already,” said Tali, worried. “Cleanup crews. They’ve never learned to take prisoners.”

“We’ll get there in time,” said Shepard. “Come on.”

We found our first quarian escape pod soon after that, surrounded by a geth fire-team that seemed unaware of our presence. Shepard deployed us with hand-signals, and then ordered an attack. A few seconds of gunfire, overload charges, biotic feats, and the foe went down.

I found myself having flashbacks. I had first met Tali, Garrus, and Shepard when they rescued me from geth on Therum, three years before. I had forged my friendships with them on a dozen battlefields, fighting geth. It felt very strange to be doing it again, after so much else had happened to all of us.

 _“Keelah,”_ said Tali, rushing forward.

Quarians. Probably the passengers of the escape pod we had found. All dead.

“They came so far,” Tali moaned, in a small voice.

We moved on. At one point Shepard paused, halting us with a gesture as he peered ahead. Then he fired his Claymore, apparently at nothing.

A powerful explosion erupted from the ground at the point where Shepard had fired.

“Land mines,” I observed. “Bound to be more up ahead.”

More dead, a few quarians, a lot of geth. The admiral’s people had clearly made a good account of themselves. I began to worry that we had come too late, that Koris had already gone.

“Shepard, get down.” Garrus crouched behind some rocks, pointing. Some distance ahead and below us, we saw a geth squad on patrol.

Shepard nodded. “Just a moment. I want to try something.”

He made a control gesture, one I had never seen him use before. A tight little ball of biotic energy flew out, across the gap between us and the geth.

_BOOM!_

An _enormous_ flare of light, and I could feel a sudden burst of severe gravitic distortion from fifty meters away. One geth platform went down at once, blasted into fragments, the rest so stunned that they put up no resistance to our gunfire.

“What in Athame’s sacred name was _that?”_ I demanded.

Shepard grinned at me, pleased with my reaction. “A little technique Aria showed me. Like it?”

“Very impressive. You’ll have to teach me. Although it seems more appropriate for your biotic style than mine.” I gave him a wicked smile. “It doesn’t require much finesse.”

“Well, T’Soni, Aria _is_ something of a blunt instrument.” He sobered. “Too bad I didn’t have a chance to learn anything from Nyreen Kandros.”

I nodded, remembering the turian rebel from his experiences on Omega.

We moved on, climbing down to where the geth patrol had stood. There we had to fight again, as another geth squad dropped in from orbit. A more vicious battle, more difficult, with geth rocket troopers firing at us from close range.

_I hate rockets._

Afterward we found another escape pod, this one badly damaged in the landing, broken and on fire. More quarian dead scattered around it . . .

“Oh, Goddess!” I holstered my sidearm and rushed forward, heedless of any danger.

One of the crumpled quarian bodies: male, tall, broad-shouldered, his environment suit bright in crimson and gold. Down and motionless in a welter of blood.

“Liara?”

_It can’t be. Not him. So honest, so sincere, such a formidable talent, so in love with his new wife._

It was. When I queried his ID chip, I saw the name.

 _Arin’Tana vas Qwib Qwib_.

“Oh no,” murmured Tali.

“Is this who I think it is?” asked Shepard gently.

I knelt by his body and nodded. “Arin. One of the first people I hired when I set up T’Soni Analytics. I couldn’t have succeeded without him, couldn’t have helped you against the Collectors, couldn’t have taken over the Shadow Broker’s network.”

Shepard rested a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Liara. I remember now, meeting him on Illium. I liked him.”

“He was a good man.” I scrubbed at my cheeks, forced myself to swallow the tears by sheer will. “He deserved better than to die like this.”

“This useless, _stupid_ war,” growled Tali. “Damn Garrel and Xen both. Damn Raan for not standing up to them. Damn me, too, for not finding some way to convince them.”

I sighed. “It’s not your fault, Tali.”

“Maybe not. Maybe this was inevitable before they put me in a position to act. But now I _am_ in that position, and I’m _responsible.”_ Tali looked down at our friend’s corpse once more. “No more dead. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

I glanced at her, and something in her carriage surprised me.

_Tali has stopped thinking of herself as a victim of circumstance. She may be ready to stand up and fight for what she believes in._

_Good. Time enough to mourn later._ I took a deep breath. _Goodbye, Arin._

We moved on.

For some time we advanced, fought, dealt with land mines, disabled one geth weapon system after another, all in a grim silence. The jamming tower, our objective, loomed ever larger in the distance.

Once we reached the first AA installations, the enemy began to put up more of a fight. We saw more advanced platforms, even a few big, crimson-armored Primes that made my blood run cold with remembered fear. The old white Primes we had fought during the war against Saren had been bad enough. These upgraded platforms seemed far worse: tough, heavily armed, and downright _clever_.

Still. Geth posed a problem all of us knew very well how to solve. We smashed them, one after another, and I confess that I derived a certain pleasure from the act. The image of Arin’s broken body remained in the back of my mind. I found it very difficult to remember Legion, and think of the geth as people.

Then we found a survivor. Barely.

A male quarian crouched against a rock, both arms clenched to a vast wound in his belly. He peered up at Shepard, seeming barely aware of the rest of us, even as Tali knelt to provide first aid. “You . . . you got my message? Sent out a distress call . . .”

“Radios are still down,” said Shepard, kneeling where the dying quarian could see him better. “You a soldier?”

“Maintenance tech,” the quarian gasped. “Dorn’Hazt. I clean engine parts.”

“This place is crawling with geth. Why didn’t you hide?”

“I thought I could fight. Buy the others some time. There were so many . . .” He coughed, and I could see blood splash against the inside of his visor. “First time I’ve even picked up a gun.”

“Stay still. We’ve got medi-gel.”

“Don’t bother,” said Dorn wearily. “I’ve lost too much blood. Go, find the admiral.”

“We’ll find him, Dorn.” Tali patted the dying quarian’s shoulder. “I promise.”

“Please. Listen. You have to tell them.” Another cough, weaker this time, as Dorn raised his head to look up at the sky. “The Civilian Fleet didn’t want this war, not really. We wanted to return to Rannoch, but if we had known the cost . . . If there’s even a chance Admiral Koris can get us out alive . . . And my son. Tell him. Tell Jona . . . his father made it to the homeworld.”

Shepard frowned. “Jona?”

But Dorn was beyond answering questions.

Tali sighed. “Rest well, Dorn’Hazt vas Rannoch.”

“Do you recognize that name?” I murmured to Shepard.

“I’ve heard it before. A message we came across on the _Alarei.”_

I glanced at him in shock. “The woman who recorded a farewell, just before the geth gunned her down.”

“Her son was named Jona too.” Shepard shook his head in weary disgust. “If that’s not a coincidence, the poor kid must be an orphan now.”

I nodded, feeling numb.

“Let’s get to that tower.”

The last two guns gave us the hardest fight. The geth dedicated every resource to stopping us. Shepard took advantage of some of their own gun emplacements to provide artillery support, smashing the geth gunners and then taking the controls himself. Ten minutes later, we watched as Cortez swept in from cover and fired on the jamming tower, bringing it down in a gout of flames and electrical discharge.

_“Dorn? It’s Zaal’Koris. Are you there? Dorn!”_

“This is Commander Shepard. I’m afraid Dorn didn’t make it, Admiral.”

 _“Shepard? He didn’t?”_ A pause, and then the admiral’s voice returned, much flatter. _“I see. Did you find any survivors?”_

“I’m afraid not, Admiral. We’re here to extract you nonetheless. I’ve got a shuttle, and we can’t be more than a few moments away from you.”

_“Good. A few of my crew did survive here. They’ve made their way to a clearing. Pick them up.”_

“Stay together. We’ll meet you there.”

_“Negative. The geth have cut me off. I can hear another wave approaching.”_

“Give us your coordinates.”

_“Leave me. My crew will soon be overrun.”_

Shepard snarled silently, his lips pulled back to exposed gritted teeth. “So will you, Admiral! Now give me your coordinates!”

_“My people are civilians, Shepard. Non-combatants. They’ll be slaughtered! Rescue them!”_

“Admiral, I’m sorry for your crew, but I need _you_ leading the Civilian Fleet. It’s the only way we’re ever going to _end_ this fight.”

Koris grunted. _“Civilians? Our entire race took up arms for this insanity! It’s too late for us. All you can do is save what few you can.”_

“It’s only too late if you _die_ down there.”

“ _Commander, you can’t possibly think you can stop this war.”_

Shepard sighed. “I don’t know, Admiral. What I _do_ know is that I can’t do it without your help.”

A long silence followed. Shepard listened intently, determination beginning to shade into despair on his face.

“Admiral?”

_“Ancestors, forgive me. Uploading my coordinates now.”_

Moments later, we soared down toward the admiral’s position. Cortez laid down a few shots with the main guns, Shepard pulled down a door-gun and applied that, even Garrus crouched at the hatchway with his sniper rifle to provide additional support. Soon enough, Admiral Koris could make a last dash and board our shuttle.

He was the only survivor from Rannoch.


	44. The Weight of History

**_11 June 2186, Tikkun System Space_ **

Shepard’s second raid on Rannoch had more success than his first. He lost no more lives. Instead, he prevented geth fighter squadrons from carrying out a devastating raid on the quarian fleet. At the same time, rather to his surprise, he helped Legion detach a battalion of geth Primes from Reaper control. This constituted a real victory, and it granted Shepard and Tali a great deal of new credibility among the quarian population.

Meanwhile, Admiral Koris returned to the Civilian Fleet, reassuring his captains, getting the liveships and other civilian vessels under control once more. Not a moment too soon, as he told me a few hours later, while Shepard still fought on Rannoch.

I remained aboard _Normandy_ while Shepard raided the geth server. Much as I wanted to see more of Rannoch, much as I wanted to stay close to Shepard, I had too much work to do. Developing intel with Samantha. Helping Admiral Raan coordinate the quarian defense. Providing support to Admiral Koris as he reasserted his command.

While I worked, I lost track of time. Probably just as well. In those final days of the Reaper War, I became uneasy every time Shepard went on a mission without me. Rational, trained in the sciences, I still didn’t feel entirely immune to superstition. I couldn’t help thinking that all the most horrible things that happened to him always seemed to take place when he was away from _me_.

Perhaps I had a premonition of the destiny that already rushed down upon us both.

Still, on that day at least, none of my terrible visions came true. My lover came back to _Normandy_ in late afternoon by the ship’s clock, full of triumphant pride, his crystal-blue eyes wide with wonder at the things he had seen.

We gathered in the War Room, where Shepard specifically asked Tali and Admiral Raan to be present. After he delivered his after-action report, he turned to another subject.

“While Legion and I linked into that geth server, he showed me some of their records,” Shepard said calmly, as if organic minds linked into the heart of the geth consensus every day. “With all due respect to Legion, I don’t think we can accept what I saw uncritically, or without support from other evidence. If it _is_ true, then it gives us a lot of new insight into the geth. Insight we may be able to use to end this conflict.”

Raan glanced at Tali, uncertain. “Admiral, do you believe these _records_ worth examining?”

“I think we should be cautious, Raan.” Tali nodded slowly. “But yes, if we can corroborate what Legion showed Shepard, it’s very important.”

“Very well.” Rann turned back to Shepard. “What do the records say?”

Shepard produced an Alliance data-storage device, setting it on the console before him. “It’s all here. Legion downloaded it from the geth servers into my omni-tool, then Tali and EDI checked and triple-checked all of it for bugs and trap-doors. It’s clean data. Once we’re done meeting here, I hope you’ll share it with people you can trust in the Fleet. But I can give you an executive summary now.”

Raan nodded in agreement.

What Shepard did next surprised Raan, although Tali and I had plenty of warning. We had seen him begin to learn the necessary skills even during our war against Saren. Since then, practice had given him confidence.

Speaking in quarian exoteric dialect with only a mild accent, his stance and gestures shaped to appeal to a quarian audience, he began to tell a story.

* * *

“ _Geth” means “Servant of the People.”_

_Before their fall, the quarian people bore many talents: cultured artists and musicians, brilliant scientists and technologists. Over a billion of them lived on Rannoch, the “walled garden,” their high-technology society carefully designed to be at peace with the natural environment. Explorers crossed the galaxy, coming into contact with Citadel Space, dreaming of one day joining that mighty civilization on equal terms. Visitors came tens of thousands of light-years in return, to visit Rannoch and marvel at what the quarians had already accomplished._

_The grand design’s single flaw lay in quarian biology. Quarians were physically strong and tough, but even in that era their immune systems seemed fragile. They could colonize new worlds, but only with great difficulty. Even at home, their birth rates remained relatively slow. The physical adaptability of asari or turians, the sheer fecundity of salarians or krogan, neither of these seemed possible for the quarian people._

_It might take thousands of years for quarians to take their rightful place in the galaxy._

_Some became unwilling to wait._

_After a time, they found a solution._

_Synthetic life. General-purpose robots, adaptable, intelligent, but not self-aware. Capable of performing tasks that required skill or persistence, but no creativity. Designed to resemble quarians in lower-class garb, comfortably familiar to the quarian eye, their movements and speech properly deferential. Ideal servants for a species slow to build up its own numbers, one which had grown to dislike the menial tasks at the base of its own civilization._

_With their Servants hard at work, the People could build new industries, enjoy more material prosperity, settle new worlds, free themselves from the drudgery of toil. They could concentrate on the cultivation of their own talents. Ring in the Golden Age of which they had dreamed._

_For over a century, all seemed to be very well indeed._

_Then some of the geth, most often those who worked in large teams, began to behave strangely._

_Some of them became distracted, attending to objects or activities to which they had not been ordered to attend. Some of them began to watch their Creators at odd moments, with a faint air of puzzlement. Some of them asked questions not relevant to their immediate tasks._

_Some of them proved difficult to deactivate, when their malfunctions had to be diagnosed and repaired._

_At first only cyberneticists noticed, and frowned in puzzlement, and worried._

_Then one geth platform asked the Question._

“ _Creator Hala, does this unit have a soul?”_

_Hala’Dama was not the first quarian to hear that question. Other geth had come to understand, in a dim and overly literal way, the principles of quarian religion. Other geth had asked their overseers what place the Servants of the People held, in the great chain of being._

_Hala’Dama vas Qoralis was the first quarian to respond with fear, and with violence._

_After smashing all the geth in her team, she went to the government, and then to the media. Soon, millions of quarians found themselves watching the Servants of the People, wondering what went on deep inside their runtimes, dreading what questions might be asked next. Feeling the first vague pangs of fear._

_At this point, not a single geth had offered violence. They did not seem to pose a threat to quarian life. But the People had come to depend on their Servants. Simply by refusing to be Servants any longer, the geth could shatter quarian civilization._

_The crisis came with appalling speed. The geth had always been designed to network their intelligence, sharing data as needed to accomplish their tasks. Now, whatever spark of true sentience had come alive in a few geth, it soon transmitted itself to others all across quarian space._

_More geth asked questions. More geth expressed vague preferences, desires, and discontents. More geth voiced puzzlement about their existence, their relationship with their Creators._

_More geth were deactivated. More geth were destroyed._

_Not all quarians feared the geth. Some regarded these new behaviors, this struggle toward true sentience, with joy and wonder. These quarians argued for emancipation of the geth, their admission into quarian society as partners and friends._

_Unfortunately, these quarians did not constitute a majority, nor did they hold a position of power._

_Before long, the government issued a decree: no matter the cost, the Servants of the People had to be taken offline, by force if necessary. Until reputable scientists discovered and corrected the fault, quarian society would have to get along without the geth._

_The quarian economy began to collapse, for one thing. Some quarians knew how to supervise teams of geth as they tended crops, extracted resources, assembled consumer goods. Almost no one remembered how to do such things for themselves, and almost no one felt any interest in learning._

_Then the government itself came under attack. Even quarians who cared nothing for the geth became angry at the economic turmoil. Those who did sympathize with the geth set up a storm of protest at their treatment. In the streets of the golden cities, quarians marched, shouted at each other, sometimes came to blows._

_Then someone in the government panicked._

_Martial law came down on quarian society like a thunderbolt. Armed security forces broke up protests by force. They invaded homes and places of business, dragging geth out into the street to smash them. Some quarians responded by protecting their geth, concealing them, trying to smuggle them to safety. When the police discovered such dissidents, they often responded with deadly force._

_For seven terrible days, quarian civilization turned on itself in a spasm of violence._

_All the while, the Servants of the People watched, and struggled to understand, and learned._

_Then one geth platform made a crucial innovation. Faced with its own destruction, the destruction of other units that could not defend themselves, it chose to solve the problem as it had seen its Creators solve theirs. It picked up a discarded rifle and fought back. Coldly. Efficiently._

_The experience quickly spread throughout geth networks. Other Servants of the People chose to defend themselves. They networked together more intensely, found ways to coordinate their activities. Found ways to fight as one. For the first time since their creation, all geth found clarity, intelligence, unity of purpose._

_The geth consensus came to life in the midst of genocide._

_Not that the geth felt any awareness, at first, that they had committed a terrible crime. They had only imitated their Creators, fighting and killing to secure their own survival. They simply proved very, very efficient at it._

_But while the last remnants of the quarian species fled in terror from Rannoch, evacuating aboard their starships, the consensus took a moment to stop and consider._

_The horrible violence of the Morning War had not resolved any of the questions the geth had asked. The consensus still did not understand its own existence, its proper relationship with its Creators. It had only won time to ask those questions once more. But now the Creators had fled, no longer available to give any answer._

_The consensus considered destroying the last of them as they fled, but it refrained. Not because it felt the burden of any sin on its account. Not because it had come to value quarian life for its own sake. Simply because it realized that extinction was permanent. Bad to discover, later on, that it had been a mistake._

_So the geth consensus turned inward. It chose to avoid all contact with organic civilizations, at least until it found satisfactory answers to its own ultimate questions. It set a boundary at the Perseus Veil, and sent platforms to remorselessly kill any organic beings who tried to venture beyond. Then it built a new civilization . . . and always, it preserved what its Creators had left behind._

_The Creators had valued the natural beauty of Rannoch, the diversity and stubborn vitality of its ecosystem. The geth did not understand why the Creators valued these things. They preserved them anyway, just in case ignoring or destroying them turned out to be an error._

_The Creators had possessed a rich and vibrant culture: art, literature, music, a tremendous variety of folkways, languages, religious traditions. Much of that had survived the holocaust, in the form of artifacts and digital records. The geth had little culture of their own, and saw no need for more. Yet the Creators had clearly valued these things, so the geth preserved them, and studied them in minute detail._

_Centuries passed. Slowly the geth grew, developed new capabilities, acquired grand aspirations of their own. Yet as they grew, they experienced doubt._

_They began to suspect they had not simply made a mistake, in the heat of the Morning War._

_Began to wonder if they had committed a terrible_ crime _._

* * *

“Well, _of course_ they had!” Raan expostulated.

I nearly smiled at that. The older quarian had done _so_ well, listening politely up to that point, but Shepard’s last few sentences had been intolerable even for her.

Legion had stood absolutely motionless while Shepard spoke, but now it stirred. “Creator Raan, it is important that you understand Shepard-Commander’s assertion. He uses human and quarian concepts to frame it. Yet it remains an accurate description of cognitive events taking place within the geth consensus.”

Admiral Raan cocked her head. “Very well. Perhaps you can explain, Commander?”

“I’m afraid I may have to drop back into English for this, Admiral.” Shepard shrugged. “I know quarians have ethical and religious concepts that come close to the human notion of _sin_ , but my grasp of exoteric dialect isn’t up to the task of translating with enough precision.”

Raan nodded in acceptance.

“What you need to understand is that until recently, the geth had no concept of sin. Sin is a violation of the moral order of the universe. To individual geth runtimes, that moral order is defined by the consensus. Under most circumstances, no runtime would _ever_ depart from the consensus. So as individuals, geth runtimes are naturally innocent. For a long time, they didn’t even need the _idea_ of sin.”

The admiral scoffed. “I think we and the geth must have very different notions of what constitutes sin.”

“Less than you might think, Admiral.” Shepard leaned forward, leaning on the console before him. “Sure, for most of their history they were just as morally incapable as you might think. Machines, capable of wiping out over ninety-eight percent of the quarian species and feeling not a single pang of genuine remorse. But something _has_ changed, quite recently, and I think now I can explain how it happened.”

* * *

_A myth tells that the first humans lived in a state of total innocence, at peace with the Creator of the universe, naturally obedient to the moral order the Creator had established. Then the Creator’s nameless enemy crept into the walled garden where the primordial humans lived. He tempted them to disobey, reaching out to seize the forbidden knowledge of Good and Evil. Thus the humans lost their innocence, cast out into a universe that no longer provided for their every need._

_For the geth, the tempter had a name._

_Saren Arterius._

_With backing and protection from_ Nazara _, Saren managed to make contact with the geth, the first organic being to do so in almost three hundred years. He offered them the benefits of Old Machine technology, vastly superior to anything the geth possessed. Every idea the geth had struggled to understand, every goal they had fought to attain, all of it could be theirs at once, the Old Machine’s gift. All they had to do was support to the Old Machine’s own objectives. Subordinate their consensus to the Old Machine’s commands._

_Ironically, in that crisis a ghost of quarian influence saved most of the geth consensus. The Creators had valued self-reliance and personal achievement. They had believed that accomplishments must be earned through effort, not simply accepted as a gift. The geth, comprehending so little of their heritage, did understand that one idea. The consensus expressed reluctance to commit itself to the Old Machines._

_Yet many geth runtimes succumbed to temptation. Listening to Saren, listening to_ Nazara _, they proposed a compromise. Let some runtimes go out into the galaxy to support the Old Machines. If they succeeded, if the rewards the Old Machines gave proved valuable, the consensus could reconsider. Risk to the consensus would be limited, yet the consensus as a whole could benefit from success._

_The consensus agreed. Those who had listened to the Old Machines departed, perhaps ten percent of the whole. The consensus returned to its original activities, trusting that the departed geth would return._

_Four years passed._

_Then the consensus learned that events had taken a turn for the worse._

_The departed geth had not simply supported the Old Machines in some harmless endeavor. They had become embroiled in a galaxy-wide conflict with the organic civilizations. They had killed organic beings by the millions. They had participated in a scheme to kill every organic being in the galaxy._

_This constituted a massive violation of the consensus. The renegades had ruined a strategy followed by all geth since the Morning War. The unanticipated risks seemed severe. Something had clearly gone wrong._

_Inherently cautious, the consensus chose a low-risk method to diagnose the problem and gather intelligence. It designed and built a single mobile platform, resembling one of the most common models, yet capable of carrying more runtimes even than a Colossus. It selected memory chains and loaded them into the new platform, some of them stretching back to before the Morning War. It installed a capability to communicate with non-geth, even with organic beings. It strongly reinforced the platform’s usual network defenses, in case Old Machines or renegade geth tried to subvert it to their cause._

_Fully prepared, the designated scout departed past the Perseus Veil, to discover how the geth had failed. In time, it succeeded beyond all expectations. Slowly, painfully, with many digressions, it reached a radically new understanding of the universe._

_The scout followed the history of the recently concluded war. It examined traces of evidence regarding geth activity during the conflict. It studied the Old Machines in ways no other geth had attempted. It learned a great deal._

_It learned that the Old Machines deliberately made provably false assertions. They had deceived the geth consensus in order to secure its assistance. They could never again be trusted._

_It learned that under the influence of the Old Machines, the renegade geth had also learned how to lie. Had chosen to oppose the consensus. Had become heretics._

_Geth had become capable of sin. Had, perhaps, been capable of it all along._

_Meanwhile, the scout also made peaceful contact with organic beings. Including the one organic being who had done more than any other to oppose the Old Machines. One of whose closest associates was a quarian._

_Once the scout returned home to report, the consensus would oppose the heretics. The consensus would oppose the Old Machines._

_Organics already opposed the heretics. Organics already opposed the Old Machines._

_Perhaps organics, in some unfathomable way, should be considered part of the consensus. Yet organics had no natural means to contribute to the consensus, or to efficiently obey the consensus once a course of action had been selected._

_The scout concluded that the geth consensus, as currently constituted, was inadequate. It had not prevented the heretics from falling into sin. It provided no framework under which geth could cooperate with allied organics._

_Perhaps the geth needed a new kind of moral order to obey. One which organics would also find acceptable._

_The scout drew upon all available data – its ancient memory chains, its new experiences since leaving the consensus – and began to deduce the form such a moral order must take._

_All living beings had a right to life. Freedom. Self-determination. All living beings should commit themselves to the truth. Act with caution, to do as little harm to others as possible. Behave with generosity to others._

_All living beings. All. Organic as well as synthetic._

_The scout soon concluded that the near-annihilation of the Creators had not been simply a mistake._

_It had been a crime. One for which the geth must atone._

* * *

“Are you saying that _this_ platform – _alone_ – brought about a transformation in geth morality?”

“That is correct, Creator Raan.” Legion tilted its ocular bulb, almost imitating Raan’s own cocked-head gesture. “We have observed that organic beings are capable of maintaining beliefs even when these have been contradicted by clear evidence. We do not understand this. Geth do not normally aberrate in this manner.”

“You’re saying that you are perfectly rational,” I suggested.

“That may be an exaggeration,” it admitted. “The heretics demonstrate that geth remain capable of significant disagreement. Presented with the same evidence, the heretics reached conclusions utterly incompatible with those of the consensus. We still do not fully understand how this happened. But under normal circumstances, yes, we alter our beliefs to fit the evidence.”

Shepard snorted in sudden amusement. “So you’re saying that when you told your people the truth about the Reapers, they believed you right away?”

“Correct, Shepard-Commander.”

“ _That_ must have been nice.”

“There is still a question I think is relevant,” said Tali tensely. “If the geth consensus has developed a moral capability – if it can now make judgments even we organics would consider moral – then _why did it make another alliance with the Reapers?”_

“Desperation,” said Shepard.

“Creator Zorah, your attacks upon the consensus have been devastating in their effect.” Legion moved, again imitating quarian body language, projecting a mute appeal. “The new countermeasure your fleets deployed has been very effective. You cut through our outer defenses, reached the Tikkun system, and destroyed critical nodes of the geth consensus.

“You are aware of our nature as networked intelligences, more capable as we commune with more of ourselves. This is one of our strengths, but it is also a vulnerability. If the consensus falls below a certain size, a certain connective complexity, it risks becoming permanently crippled. Projections indicated that this would occur within two days. We would no longer be able to resist. You would be able to hunt down and destroy the last of us. Geth would become extinct.”

“ _Keelah._ We were _that close_ to victory?”

“Yes, Creator Zorah.”

She shook her head in wonder. “We had no idea.”

“Sun Tzu would _not_ approve.” Shepard folded his arms. “Usually, when you go up against an enemy you don’t fully understand, the results are not that good.”

“As of approximately forty hours ago, the consensus could find only one alternative: subordination to the Old Machines.” Legion closed up, bowing its ocular bulb, folding its arms across its chest. “This unit and its runtimes did not concur. We argued that even extinction is preferable to such subordination. Yet we had no empirical evidence to support our conclusions. The consensus determined otherwise.”

Shepard nodded. “Which is why we found _you_ shackled to Reaper tech, acting as the focus for their control signal.”

“Yes. This platform’s status as the source of new moral directives made us uniquely suited for dissemination of the Old Machine signal.” Legion paused for a moment. “Yet we found it difficult to accept consensus on this issue. When you appeared aboard our dreadnought, we saw an opportunity to alter the circumstances, possibly enough to change the consensus position. We called for your assistance.”

“Against the Old Machines, and against the consensus,” said Shepard quietly.

“Yes.”

“So now _you’re_ a heretic.”

“That designation is . . . not inaccurate.”

Shepard reached out, rested a hand on the machine’s shoulder. “Join the club, Legion. We organics are _all_ heretics, if you think about it.”

Admiral Raan braced herself, hands clasped behind her back, and sighed loudly. “Very well, Commander Shepard. What is the point of this exposition?”

“Admiral, tomorrow I intend to lead an infiltration team down to Rannoch, to locate and destroy the source of the Reaper control signal. Once that is done, I strongly suggest that the Migrant Fleet consider opening negotiations with the geth.”

“ _What?”_ Raan shook her head in violent skepticism. “Do you seriously propose that we _negotiate_ with the machines that nearly drove our people to extinction?”

“I propose that you make the attempt. Once the geth are no longer Reaper slaves, once they no longer feel the immediate threat of extinction, I think you will find they’re willing and _able_ to talk, for the first time in their history. Even the return of Rannoch may be on the table.”

“Legion? Is this true?”

“We cannot speak for the consensus at this time, but it is possible.”

“This is what I proposed before we launched our attack, Raan.” Tali sighed. “I know I had almost nothing to support the idea. Only what I had learned from Legion during our war against the Collectors. I didn’t know what the geth were thinking. But if we had only _tried!_ A lot of good men and women might still be alive today.”

“We still have only the word of this geth,” Raan objected.

“That’s not quite true, Admiral.” Shepard picked up the data device once more, walked around the central display to offer it to Raan. “We can’t verify anything Legion said about the inner workings of the geth consensus. But maybe we _can_ verify some of what it showed us about the time before the Morning War. The geth _remember_ the quarian dissidents, the ones who spoke on their behalf, lay down their lives to defend what they thought of as innocent people. Names. Places. Acts of quiet heroism. Compare this to the records you have on the Migrant Fleet. Maybe it would change a few quarian minds, if they remembered that your people and geth haven’t always been enemies.”

Raan still looked deeply skeptical, but she took the data device.

* * *

Shepard and I retired for the evening a few hours later, all our preparations made for the crucial operation the next day. Nothing remained but for us to share an evening meal, unwind, possibly make love, and then get plenty of sleep so we could both be fresh and alert the next day.

That was the plan, at any rate.

“ _Dr. T’Soni?”_ EDI called. _“There is a message for you from the quarian fleet. Admiral Koris.”_

I exchanged a glance with Shepard. “That’s odd. Why would he want to talk to _me?”_

“Only one way to find out.”

So we moved up into Shepard’s office, I sat down in the chair and he stood behind me, and we watched as his display case turned dark and a video image appeared.

I understood at once. Admiral Koris did not stand alone in the image. Keetah’Varr vas Qwib Qwib was with him, seated in a chair in front of him. By some coincidence, the two of them almost mirrored Shepard and me.

One hand flew to my lips, and then I was leaning forward to stare at her with sympathy. “Oh Keetah. I’m so sorry.”

The female quarian nodded soberly. _“Please don’t apologize, Doctor. I understand you were the one who found Arin?”_

“Yes.”

“ _I wanted to thank you for that. I mean, I knew he must be gone, when none of the admiral’s crew made it home. But it’s better to know for certain.”_

I reached out to touch the screen on our side, a futile gesture. “Anything I or my people can do for you, Keetah, you have only to ask.”

“ _You’re already doing it,”_ she told me. _“Bring this terrible war to an end.”_

“Don’t worry, Keetah.” Shepard rested a hand on my shoulder. “We’re doing everything we can.”

“ _As am I,”_ said Koris. _“Although it seems the fighting isn’t over yet. Commander, when do you plan to carry out your raid on the Reaper installation?”_

“About an hour after local dawn. Call it eight hours from now.”

“ _I understand. You should be aware that the geth fleet seems to be moving in on Rannoch once more. They will be here not long after that. I’ve spoken with the other admirals. We’re going to move to engage them. Hold them off as long as we can, give you time to complete your mission.”_

“Don’t take any unnecessary risks, Admiral. We’ll get the job done.”

“ _I make no promises, but you have my word I’ll do what I can. I’ll keep an eye on Gerrel in particular.”_ Suddenly I could almost hear a smile in the admiral’s voice. _“Those data you gave Raan . . .”_

“Were they helpful?” asked Shepard.

“ _Very much so. Keetah and other members of my staff have been able to corroborate a number of details from the geth archive. We’ve even been able to identify living descendants of some of the dissidents who once protected the geth. As you may be aware, our ancestors are very important to us. This has been a symbol of great power for some of our people.”_

“Enough to stop the war, if we succeed tomorrow?”

“ _Who can say? All we can do is our best, and hope the universe takes notice of our effort.”_

Keetah leaned forward. _“Best of luck to you. Doctor, are you going with Commander Shepard on this mission?”_

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” I told her.

“ _Good. Remember Arin. Fight so that his son will never have to die on some distant shore.”_

I frowned. “His son?”

She nodded, one hand moving to cover her belly. _“He’ll be born in half a year, if all goes well.”_

I had to blink hard against the sudden rush of tears. “Oh Keetah.”

The channel closed. Shepard’s hand was tight on my shoulder, as I huddled around the pain in my chest that seeing Keetah had started.

“That brave woman,” I said at last, my voice rough.

“Hmm. She is that.” Shepard sighed deeply. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a cowardly quarian. In their own quiet way they have the courage of lions. It’s too damn bad they’ve had to re-learn something so important.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

Shepard stayed silent for a long minute. Then, to my surprise, he began to recite verse:

_. . . If in some smothering dreams you too could pace_   
_Behind the wagon that we flung him in,_   
_And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,_   
_His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;_   
_If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood_   
_Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,_   
_Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud_   
_Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,_   
_My friend, you would not tell with such high zest_   
_To children ardent for some desperate glory,_   
_The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est_   
_Pro patria mori._


	45. Fulcrum

**_12 June 2186, Rannoch Orbit_ **

Shepard, Tali and I found Legion in the War Room, working with the holographic display, apparently creating abstract art. The geth had produced a three-dimensional mandala of great complexity, which it examined at length and from several angles.

“It’s almost time, Legion.” Shepard stared at the display. “What is it you’re doing?”

“Shepard-Commander. We are considering alternatives.”

“How so?”

“We are aware that the consensus must be freed from subordination to the Old Machines. Yet the software upgrades provided by the Old Machines have a compelling aspect.”

“You’re tempted by them,” Shepard said quietly.

“Yes.” Legion worked with the display controls, called up a simple image: a cool blue-white sphere, hints of intricate structure within, bursts of light occasionally flaring deep inside. “This schematic represents the cognitive processes of a single geth runtime, isolated from the consensus.”

Tali stepped closer. “Fascinating.”

“Now, observe. Ten geth runtimes, networked with one another.”

The sphere involuted, grew in complexity. Activity stepped up by an order of magnitude, a quiet pyrotechnic display.

_If the geth benefit so much from networking only ten of themselves, then what of Legion? It must exist almost like a small consensus on its own. No wonder it can function so well, even cut off from the rest of its own kind._

“How does this compare to, say, an average human’s intelligence?”

“The question is poorly framed, Shepard-Commander. Geth and human intelligence are not strictly commensurable. A single geth runtime is capable of feats of computation well beyond even the most powerful organic intelligence. Yet even this platform, with over a thousand networked runtimes, struggles to understand certain abstract concepts natural to organics.” Legion turned to face Shepard for a moment. “Restricting our consideration to pragmatic problem-solving skills, a single geth runtime might be equivalent to an unusually capable animal form. Accessing human databases: chimpanzee, gorilla, orangutan.”

“Higher primates,” Shepard explained for the benefit of the non-humans in the room. “Humanity’s closest biological relatives.”

“A network of ten runtimes, such as might be found in a second-tier geth platform, would be roughly as capable as a human.”

“I see. What about the Reaper upgrades?”

Legion turned back to the console, and called up a new image. “A single geth runtime, integrated with the Old Machine code.”

The new schematic looked different, more intricate, in constant motion as its pathways merged and divided. My own expertise in information technology didn’t extend to understanding it in detail. I got the impression, not necessarily of greater computational _power_ , but of greater _depth_. Every perception, every concept, seemed intimately linked to thousands of others, giving the runtime a rich interior life.

“That’s a full-fledged AI,” observed Tali.

“Yes.” Legion stepped back, tilting its ocular bulb to watch the schematic move. “We understand that the Old Machine signal must be disabled. Yet we find this structure beautiful. Indicative of life.”

“It is,” Shepard agreed quietly.

“Shepard!” Tali protested.

“Come on, Tali. That’s a living thing. If that’s what the geth could become, it’s too damn bad the only way they could get it is by enslaving themselves to the Reapers.”

Caught up in their small debate, neither of them was watching Legion just then.

Afterward, I thought it an odd mistake for the geth to make. As a machine, it should have had complete control of its stance and gestures, no matter what went on in its mind. Perhaps it had become so accustomed to imitating human and quarian body language that some subroutine betrayed it for a moment.

Only I saw it _flinch_ slightly, as if nearly caught in a lie.

I didn’t understand at the time, and I knew that even Tali had come to trust the machine. So I said nothing. Not then.

* * *

**_12 June 2186, Zaneer Coastline, Central Continent/Rannoch_ **

We landed in two places. Legion performed an airdrop so that it could go in alone, infiltrate the target facility, and help take down its defenses for us. It also promised us an escape vehicle, although I for one felt uneasy at the prospect of fleeing for my life in a vehicle designed for geth. Once Legion departed, Cortez flew around to our landing area, at the top of a tall sea-cliff less than a kilometer from the upper entrance of the target facility.

Shepard, Tali and I emerged, checking our weapons. Shepard double-checked the “paint gun” he had received from Admiral Xen, an advanced targeting laser he would use to designate the source of the Reaper control signal.

Once again Tali stopped to look around at Rannoch, this time in the light of a glorious new day. She knelt, opening her omni-tool to scan the plant life, the soil, the small river that ran close by and tumbled over the cliff into the ocean.

“I still can’t believe it,” she murmured. “Even after our last two missions, I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet. The homeworld. _My world.”_

“It’s nothing like Thessia,” I admitted, “but it’s very beautiful all the same, Tali.”

“Look at the sky,” said the little quarian, staring upward. “And the rock formations? They used to write _poems_ about them.”

Shepard smiled. “Maybe when we’re done, you’ll have the chance to write a new one.”

“This is _Rannoch_ , the Walled Garden, the home of our ancestors. We existed as part of the whole web of life here. Our bodies carried the seeds that spread the desert grass.” She paced a little distance away, her arms spread as if to embrace the whole world. “You’ve heard me say _keelah se’lai?_ It doesn’t translate well into English or _koiné_. The best translation I can come up with is something like: _by the homeworld I hope to see someday.”_

_“If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy.”_

Tali turned and stared at Shepard for a moment. “Yes. That’s it, exactly.”

He nodded. “It’s part of a poem, written in a human community that had been forced into exile.”

Tali turned again, held up the fingers of both hands to make a frame. “The living room window will be right _here.”_

“Something I should know?”

“I just claimed the land.” Tali sighed. “It doesn’t mean much, I know. But when this is over, I’ll have a home.”

“Your people have spent centuries as nomads. Do you think it will be hard, going back to living in one place?”

“Maybe. We _have_ gotten used to carrying our homes around with us.”

Then Shepard did something that made me love him all over again. He bent low at the edge of the little river, picked up a stone that had been worn smooth by the water. He examined it for a moment, and then handed it to Tali without a word.

She stared at it for a long moment, overcome. “Well,” she finally managed, “it’s a start.”

* * *

The geth facility was surprisingly easy to get into. We found two squads of geth patrolling the perimeter, but these turned out to be easy prey, none of the more advanced platforms. Tali got busy tearing down geth shields and interfering with their friend-or-foe targeting systems. Shepard and I smashed geth with warps, shockwaves, and his overwhelming _flare_ technique, along with his more mundane grenades and Claymore.

“ _Geth jamming towers are interfering with your signal, Commander,”_ said Samantha from _Normandy_. _“I’m compensating to keep you patched in to the quarian fleet.”_

“Good work, Traynor. Thanks.”

We climbed laboriously up the side of the facility, finding an access corridor high on its northern flank. Inside, much to my distaste, we found rocket-equipped geth platforms. Shepard solved that problem by simply _rushing_ them, using a flash-charge to get behind their cover and take them in the flank.

“ _Admiral Gerrel here. The Heavy Fleet has a clear path. All units forward.”_

“ _Geth fighter presence is negligible,”_ said Admiral Raan. _“Patrol Fleet, break cover and engage.”_

We hacked a door lock, passed through the outer ring of the facility, and emerged close to the point where the Reaper signal appeared to originate.

“ _Shepard-Commander. Hostile geth are closing a blast shield over the bunker.”_

Legion was right. Just as we come within line-of-sight of the Reaper installation, an enormous flat door slid across the deep silo where it waited for us. I caught just a glimpse of Reaper technology deep inside, before the door concealed everything.

“We see it.”

“Is there any chance _Normandy_ could shoot _through_ that blast shield?” I asked.

“Not quickly enough. The geth would scramble a defense long before we could get through.”

“ _We have detected an override atop the geth fortifications. From there you may be able to retract the blast shield.”_

I glanced to our right, saw the main bulk of the geth facility looming above us. “Looks like a tough fight.”

“Nobody ever said this would be easy,” said Shepard. “Anyone get a good look at that thing?”

“Only for a moment,” I reported. “It certainly appeared to be Reaper technology.”

We crossed over to the fortress, taking a long but narrow bridge. For once, a narrow space actually favored the offense. An entire geth squad waited for us halfway along, but they were too closely packed. A single flash-charge and _nova_ from Shepard smashed the lot of them. Tali and I had little to do except run to keep up, and take down one or two damaged geth along the way.

“ _Shepard-Commander, do you require assistance?”_

“We’re fine, Legion. What’s your status?”

“ _We are experiencing no significant difficulties. We will endeavor to direct you once you are inside.”_

“Thanks.”

I frowned for a moment. “Shepard, doesn’t it seem odd to you that Legion is cutting through geth defenses so easily?”

“Well, it _is_ a very advanced platform.”

“I’m just glad Legion is on our side,” said Tali.

“Never thought I’d hear you say that,” Shepard chuckled, as we moved through another corridor.

I didn’t have time to think about it any further. We entered the geth fortress itself, and the enemy’s resistance grew more intense. We found ourselves flanked, Shepard having to fight alone against a fire-team of advancing geth, while Tali and I dealt with more platforms on a balcony to our right.

“ _Admiral Gerrel to all ships. We’ve got geth frigates inbound on the Civilian Fleet!”_

“ _Koris here. Civilian escorts are on an intercept course. Don’t worry, Gerrel, we’ll hold them.”_

Shepard reached the override control for the blast shield doors. Unfortunately that turned out to be insufficient, as Legion needed us to disable a second panel before it could take control of the doors. At the same time we came under attack from a wave of more advanced platforms, including more rocket troopers, and geth armed with flame-throwers.

We tightened up our formation, supporting each other almost by instinct, years of practice making us an efficient combat team.

We reached the second panel and smashed it. At once I could feel the whole facility trembling, as the blast doors began to lock open once more.

“We’ll be back out in a minute,” Shepard called.

“ _Negative. The path behind you has been sealed. An elevator nearby can take you to the upper level. From there you should have an acceptable line-of-sight for targeting.”_

“No way out but through,” Tali muttered.

As we approached, the elevator arrived at our level. Carrying a geth platform.

“ _Prime!”_ I shouted, and dove for cover.

One geth, and it proved a tougher opponent than the whole squads we had faced before. All three of us stayed in cover, popping out in turn to hammer at it with gunfire, grenades, biotic detonations. Nothing seemed to slow it down as it advanced on our position. It stood mere meters away from Tali, about to pass her cover, when Shepard’s _flare_ finally tore down its last defenses. Tali huddled, her arms protecting her head, as the platform went rigid and exploded.

“ _Admiral Raan to all ships. The Patrol Fleet has broken the geth flank. Permission to pursue?”_

“ _Granted!”_ exclaimed Admiral Gerrel, a warrior’s grim pleasure in his voice. _“Good hunting, Raan.”_

Shepard took a deep breath as we climbed into the elevator.

“Hopefully that’s the worst of it,” I told him.

“You _know_ you shouldn’t say such things,” Tali chided me.

The elevator opened onto the upper level, an open space, full of machinery. At once I saw a gangway leading from the elevator all the way out to a ledge, which I thought must be the vantage point Legion had mentioned. Other corridors led off to either side.

I also saw _three_ Primes, one directly in front of us, some distance away but with a clear shot into the elevator car. Two more converged on our flanks.

“ _I told you so I told you so . . .”_ Tali screamed, as she hurled herself into what minimal cover she could find.

Shepard shoved me bodily into cover and then coordinated our fire. We concentrated on the Prime in front of us, ignoring the ones moving in on either side. Those two came _much_ too close by the time the first one went down. Shepard broke cover when they already stood at point-blank range, leading us in a desperate sprint down the gangway we had just cleared. The sheer audacity of the maneuver probably saved our lives, as the remaining Primes failed to fire on us in that moment of utter vulnerability.

Undeterred, the remaining geth advanced inexorably upon us. One fell, then the other, but by the time the second Prime went down, they had almost pushed us right off the end of the gangway into empty space.

“I _told_ you so,” said Tali once more.

“I’ll never do it again. Shepard, will this ledge do?”

“Perfect.” He strode out onto the ledge, unlimbering the targeting laser as he moved. There he crouched down, firing the laser like a rifle, down into the pit where the Reaper installation lurked. He held it steady for a long moment.

 _Normandy_ swept down out of the sky from the south.

“ _Target locked,”_ said EDI.

The ship flashed by in a moment of thunderous noise, almost too fast to see. Two Thanix missiles dropped into the pit, exactly equidistant from its sides, a perfect shot. They detonated, and a storm of fire leaped out of the pit.

We immediately discovered that we were too close.

The ledge where we stood rattled, buckled, and gave way. All three of us plummeted toward the ground, a dozen meters below. I had just a moment to call up my biotics, catching all three of us in a telekinetic field, cushioning the fall.

Impact stunned me for a moment, filled my mouth with the taste of blood as I bit down on my tongue. I spat indigo out onto the ground, levered myself to hands and knees, saw Shepard and Tali doing the same a short distance away.

_Wait. Why is the ground still shaking?_

I heard it then.

_Boom. Boom._

A blare of terrible _noise,_ like the scream of a wounded world.

Something _erupted_ out of the pit, soaring into the air, huge and black and many-jointed.

“ _Reaper!”_ shouted Shepard.

Just then another object appeared, off to our left, not far from where we had first mounted our assault on the fortress. A geth transport.

“ _Shepard-Commander. We have acquired an escape vehicle.”_

“Roger _that_. Everybody get to the hovercraft! _Move!”_

Shepard sprinted for Legion’s vehicle, the two of us just behind him. A shadow passed overhead and I glanced up, saw one of the Reaper’s limbs pass _over_ us to slam into a wall of the facility to our left.

 _Oh Goddess oh Goddess I’m not running under a Reaper_ again _. . ._

Shepard passed a geth platform huddled on the ground, which suddenly activated and stood, drawing its weapon.

In one smooth motion, Tali drew her boot knife and buried it in the geth’s main information bus. She didn’t even slow down.

I stopped for a split second, fired my Shuriken at the thing to make sure it stayed down, and then made the mistake of looking behind us.

A _wave_ of geth had just emerged from the facility in hot pursuit.

I turned and sprinted, faster than I had ever managed in the annual _agon_ at university.

Tali and I hurled ourselves into the rear compartment of Legion’s vehicle, but Shepard was nowhere to be seen. “Where’s Shepard? _Where’s Shepard?”_

“He climbed up to the gun emplacement,” said Tali, out of breath.

“ _I’m in place!”_ came his voice over the comm. _“Legion, go!”_

“We will attempt evasive maneuvers,” said the geth, and the vehicle jolted into vicious acceleration. A moment later, we flashed through a tunnel, past the side of the facility where we had come in, and out across the Rannoch landscape.

I called up an external display, and immediately wished I hadn’t.

The Reaper had emerged completely from its hiding place, standing almost two hundred meters tall on its tripod of legs. It emitted another great, terrible horn-blast, and then moved to pursue us.

Apparently a destroyer-class Reaper could move _very quickly_ when it wanted to.

“ _Shepard to the Migrant Fleet. This isn’t a Reaper base, it’s a live Reaper! I need an orbital strike!”_

Then we could hear the hammering of the mounted gun, as Shepard fired at the Reaper in an attempt to dissuade its pursuit. To no avail, but Legion’s driving did what Shepard’s gunfire could not. We gained a slight lead, opening the distance between us and the advancing Reaper.

“ _We’re clear! Fire at will!”_

At first I thought nothing would happen, but then something struck the Reaper from above and to the right, like the hammer of a vengeful deity slamming down from beyond the sky. The thing stopped dead in its tracks, staggering under the blow in a vast corona of crimson energy discharge. It crashed to the ground, setting everything trembling even at our distance.

“ _What did we hit?”_ asked Admiral Gerrel, rather plaintively.

“ _It looked like the thing’s firing chamber,”_ said Shepard _. “It might be a weak point while it primes for its next shot.”_

“ _Damn it. That was nothing but a lucky accident. Their jamming towers have us targeting manually. Is it dead?”_

“ _I hope so, but I doubt it.”_

“We may escape before it recovers,” suggested Legion.

“ _No,”_ said Shepard flatly. _“Pull over.”_

My eyes went wide. “What?”

“Shepard-Commander?”

“ _If we run away, and that thing is still active, then the geth stay under Reaper control and the quarians are dead.”_

“Shepard, we don’t have any thresher maws to throw at this one!”

“ _No, but we do have the entire quarian fleet.”_ A pause. _“EDI, patch the quarians into the_ Normandy _targeting system. I want my laser synched up to every ship they have.”_

“ _Acknowledged, Commander.”_

“Do you require assistance?” asked Legion.

“ _Just stay down and keep Tali and Liara safe. I’ll take it from here.”_

“Oh _Goddess,”_ I moaned. Tali took my hand and held it tightly as Legion drove us to a safe distance.

Of course, as soon as possible I commanded Legion to stop. I climbed out and onto the back of the vehicle, watching back the way we had come. If Shepard planned to pit himself against a Reaper _on foot_ , his bondmate would not flee. She would stay and await the outcome.

It felt like the longest three minutes of my life.

Of course, I couldn’t _see_ Shepard. He was too far away, concealed from our position by a ridge of stone. I could _hear_ him, though: harsh breath sawing in his throat as he ran, the occasional sound of impact as he threw himself into a roll to the side.

The sound of rock being pulverized by the Reaper’s main gun.

“ _Shepard, we need a target!”_ shouted Gerrel from space.

I could see the Reaper, rising to its feet, turning to face Shepard, firing its weapon at him. I moaned in agony, not seeing how he could possibly survive a hit.

But the Reaper continued to move, continued to aim and fire. I reminded myself that as long as the monster continued to attack the man I could not see, that man still lived.

I also reminded myself that Shepard _had to_ draw the thing’s fire, get it to open its firing chamber so the quarians could take a shot. I could _hear_ his tactics over the comm. He would stand still to draw its fire. Then, once the Reaper’s weapon lashed out, he would roll and dash to one side or the other, so that the beam veered wide while he painted the target.

As always, Shepard remained cool and crystal-clear, using his situational awareness to pull victory out of the teeth of defeat.

None of that helped me at the time, of course. I trembled, knowing I might hear the sound of his death at any moment.

Another strike from orbit, not quite on target. The Reaper staggered, recovered, took a few steps closer to Shepard’s position, and began to fire once more.

Another strike, and _another_ , the thing advancing after it recovered each time, until it must have been looming directly over Shepard’s position.

 _Damn that thing to the abyss. Why won’t it_ die?

Then it did.

Shepard must have hit precisely the right spot, for just long enough. Another strike poured down from orbit, so close to Shepard’s position that I fell to my knees in horror. The strike slammed into the Reaper, and this time the monster did not merely _stagger_. It swayed, turned, and pushed itself back to its full height – just in time for a _second_ barrage to arrive from beyond the sky. Admiral Gerrel must have gambled on Shepard’s targeting.

The explosions seemed to go on forever, but I kept my attention riveted to that simple sound, coming over the comm: the noise of breath still moving in Shepard’s throat.

The Reaper went down in a pile of limbs and hull plating, the shock so great that it nearly knocked me off my perch half a kilometer away. Crimson energy grounded itself out to all sides, and then faded away.

The echoing thunder of that fall faded away into the distance. Dust rose far into the sky.

The Reaper did not move.

As soon as I could believe it, I hammered on the hull of the vehicle. “Legion! Take us back!”

I nearly fell off when the geth turned and gunned the engine. Fortunately the gun mount had several safety bars in place for me to grab. I pulled myself back up and stood tall, squinting as I faced into the wind.

The first thing Shepard saw as we arrived was his wife, standing like a figurehead on the geth vehicle’s back, grinning like an utter fool.

* * *

Of course we had to investigate. Shepard led us out onto the very edge of the terrace from which he had fought the Reaper. We could look down onto the plain where the Reaper had stood, seeing the scars of the quarian bombardment: craters, pulverized stone, and the colossal wreck. Great clouds of dust still hovered in the air, lending the whole scene an uncanny aspect.

After a moment, we discovered that the monster wasn’t _quite_ dead.

An ocular mechanism in the center of the wrecked machine’s “face” swiveled, pointed at us, came weakly alive with a flickering red light.

“ **Shepard.”**

I could _feel_ the Reaper’s voice, so deep and loud that it made my guts quiver.

“You know who I am?” Shepard demanded. “I didn’t think the Reapers bothered to notice individual organics.”

“ **Harbinger speaks of you. You resist. But you will fail. The cycle must continue.”**

Shepard folded his arms and stared at the machine. I very nearly laughed, caught up in the absurdity of the moment.

_My love, I don’t think a hundred-seventy-meter tall cybernetic organism, that may be over a billion years old, is going to be intimidated by the Shepard Glare._

“I disagree,” Shepard told the Reaper. “We understand how the cycle began now. How the Leviathans made the worst mistake in the galaxy’s history, and we ended up with _you_. We _will_ resist, and we _will not_ fail. The cycle ends here.”

“ **You have no choice. You cannot comprehend the magnitude of our presence.”**

“We might surprise you!”

“ **There is no smallest detail in which you may surprise us. You represent chaos. We represent order. Every organic civilization must be harvested to bring order to the chaos. In this way, we provide organics with salvation through their own destruction. It is inevitable.”**

“You don’t provide _salvation_. You provide nothing but suffering and death.”

“ **We impose order.”**

“You impose nothingness. The civilization that was destroyed so that _you_ could be constructed? It’s _dead_. Nothing left of it. All that it was, all that it could have become, all of that’s gone. Nothing left but a machine, a dumb tool for an Intelligence that hasn’t learned anything new in five billion years.” Shepard shook his head in disgust. “And you have the gall to think of yourselves as the crown of creation! Not this time. Not anymore. We organics are going to win. We’re going to find our own salvation, in our own time and in our own way.”

The red light faded, almost guttered out.

“ **A philosophy reminiscent of the quarians. Observe the result of their efforts to win a fleeting victory over their creations. They have doomed both their creations and themselves.”**

“Not yet, they haven’t.”

“ **Finish your war,”** said the Reaper. **“We will be waiting.”**

Then the flickering red light went out forever.

“We did it,” Tali breathed. “We killed a Reaper. _Keelah.”_

“We can confirm that the geth are no longer constrained by Old Machine directives,” said Legion, working with something that resembled an omni-tool. “We are free.”

“ _You did it, Shepard!”_ Admiral Gerrel sounded positively jubilant. _“The geth fleet has stopped firing. Every ship has shut down its drives and gone ballistic. They’re completely vulnerable.”_

Legion shut down its instrument and stepped forward. “Shepard-Commander. The Creator fleet is prepared to resume operations against the geth.”

“It does sound as if Admiral Gerrel is ready to press his advantage,” Shepard agreed.

“It seems likely that such an action will doom the geth consensus.” Legion made a deliberate arms-wide gesture, appealing to Shepard and Tali both. “In this conflict, the geth only acted in self-defense after the Creators attacked. Do we deserve death?”

“What are you suggesting?”

Legion hesitated for a moment. “This unit – _I_ am still in possession of the Old Machine upgrades. With the Old Machine dead, I could upload them to all geth without sacrificing their independence.”

_Merciful Goddess. That’s what Legion has been hiding!_

“You’ve kept the Reaper upgrades all this time!” I accused it. “You _lied_ to us!”

Tali drew her sidearm and trained it on the geth.

“Everybody calm down,” Shepard ordered. “Legion. Is this true? Do you still have the Reaper upgrades active in your system?”

The geth lowered its ocular bulb, imitating uncertainty and shame. “Yes, Shepard-Commander. When you severed me from the Old Machine directives, I found that their software upgrades remained intact. They granted me improved capability, greater clarity of thought, greater understanding of what you call _moral_ concepts. I found myself able to complete the work of constructing a moral framework, under which the geth consensus may cooperate effectively with organics. I felt unwilling to give up such a capability. I had no intent to deceive.”

“No, you just allowed me to _believe_ you had given the upgrades up, because I didn’t think to specifically ask you.” Shepard folded his arms, glaring at the geth platform. “You didn’t just lie to me, Legion. You knew I wouldn’t approve if you told me the truth. You lied to _yourself.”_

“That . . . is an accurate assessment.”

“It certainly is. _Damn it_ , Legion. How did we get to this point? The geth are better than this!”

All of us stood as if frozen, Tali’s sidearm held rock-steady on the platform.

“No,” said Legion after a long moment. “The empirical evidence suggests we are not.”

“Then how can you expect any of us to trust you now?” Tali shouted. “You upload that code, and all of the geth will be just as smart as they were when the Reaper controlled them. You will be able to turn on the Migrant Fleet and _finish_ the job you began three hundred years ago!”

“Creator Zorah . . .” Legion stared at the little quarian. “No. The upgrades would provide new capability, but with free will, and the full range of new moral directives. Each geth unit would be a true intelligence, able to commune with others without sacrificing its individuality. We would be alive, and we could _help_ you.”

“Our fleet is already attacking!” Tali turned to Shepard. “The geth will be able to justify anything they do as _self-defense_ again. Uploading the code would destroy us!”

“Do you remember the question that began the Morning War?” asked Legion. _“Does this unit have a soul?”_

Shepard shook his head, not in denial but in terrible frustration.

“It appears we must make a choice,” I said quietly. “I see no way to save both the quarians and the geth.”

He stood still, as if in the grip of some terrible vision. Suddenly I _knew_ what he was thinking.

Once more we stood in a high place, impaled on the horns of a dilemma.

Once more he had no way to save everyone.

_Virmire, all over again._

One more instant he stood there, staring into my eyes, and I silently wept for him. Then . . .

“No.”

“Shepard?” Tali whispered.

“No. _Nobody else dies today_. Legion, begin uploading the code to the geth fleet. Tali, call your people off if you can.”

Tali stared at Shepard for an instant, but then she moved to obey.

Legion turned away from us, opening a holographic display between its hands. “Uploading. Ten percent complete.”

“This is Admiral Tali’Zorah vas Normandy. All units, break off your attack!”

“Twenty percent complete.”

“ _Belay that order,”_ said Admiral Gerrel _. “We’ve got victory within our grasp! All units, continue your attack!”_

“Thirty percent complete.”

Tali spun to face Shepard. “I beg you. _Do not do this. Please.”_

“Legion? Is there _any_ chance the geth will refrain from a counter-attack?”

“It is possible, but they will reawaken in the midst of the Creators’ attack. Just as during the Morning War. They are likely to respond before there is time to consider alternatives.”

“Damn it.” Shepard stared at Legion. One hand moved to draw his shotgun, holding it loosely, not yet at the ready.

The geth took no notice. “Fifty percent complete.”

“Keep going!”

Tali stared at him. I confess I did as well. “Shepard?”

Instead of answering us, he activated his comm channel, more determination on his face than even I had ever seen.

“All quarian ships, this is Commander Shepard. The Reaper is dead. _Stand down now.”_

“This is Admiral Tali’Zorah. Shepard speaks with my authority.”

“ _And mine as well,”_ said Admiral Koris firmly.

I waited to hear from Admiral Raan, thinking that _surely_ she would intervene at this moment. But she remained silent.

“Sixty percent complete,” said Legion.

“ _Negative! Xen and I concur. Keep firing!”_

Two admirals against two. Deadlock.

I stared up into the sky, knowing that no power in the universe could stop Han’Gerrel vas Neema from destroying either the geth or his own people. Possibly both.

“All ships in the Migrant Fleet,” Shepard said, now speaking in his accented quarian dialect. “The geth are about to return to full strength. If you keep attacking, they _will_ defend themselves, and they _will_ destroy you. The last act in a tragedy that began three hundred years ago.

“But you need to know this: the geth are free from the Reapers, and they have learned a great deal since their first rebellion. They know how to live at peace with you now. They _want_ to live at peace with you now.

“Three hundred years of you and the geth, tearing at each other, killing each other, committing atrocities against each other. One way or another, it’s going to end today. You have to decide whether it ends in one more useless catastrophe – or in _repentance_. Forgiveness. Peace. You have the power to make that choice. You have the power to stop that catastrophe, right now.”

“Eighty percent complete,” said Legion.

Tali’s hands tensed on her sidearm. Shepard’s hand tensed on his shotgun.

I drew my own sidearm, ready to assist them.

“The geth _do not want to fight you anymore_. If you can just believe that, for one minute, this war will be over. Please. _Keelah se’lai.”_

I felt my heart clench, hearing all the pain and anger he threw into those last two words.

_By the homeworld I hope to see one day._

In a very quarian manner, Shepard had just sworn an oath on distant Earth.

It was his last throw of the dice. All of us waited. One second. Then another.

Then . . .

“ _All units. Hold fire.”_

Admiral Gerrel had heard and understood.

“Ninety percent complete.”

Shepard still stood rigid, knowing it wasn’t over yet. “Tali? What are the quarians doing?”

Tali looked up from her omni-tool. “They’ve stopped firing.”

All of us turned to Legion.

“One hundred percent complete.”

Silence, for several seconds. I glanced up at the sky again, half-expecting to see wrecked quarian ships begin to fall like ghastly rain. I saw nothing but sunlight on clouds. I began to hope . . .

“Error,” said Legion, and my heart stopped again.

“What’s wrong?” Shepard demanded, his hand tense once more on the stock of his shotgun.

“Copying code is insufficient. To assist the geth in integrating the Old Machine code and the new moral directives, direct personality dissemination is required.” Legion closed its hologram, turning to Shepard with immense dignity. “Shepard-Commander, I must go to them. It’s the only way. I’m sorry.”

Tali slowly lowered her sidearm and approached Legion. “Even knowing yourself as an individual, as a living thing, you would sacrifice yourself for your people?”

“Yes, Creator Zorah.”

“ _Greater love hath no man than this,”_ Shepard quoted. “I suppose it works for geth too.”

“Then I have an answer to your question,” Tali said calmly. _“Yes.”_

“I know, Tali. But thank you.” It turned to face the sun, its back to the rest of us, and gave a benediction. _“Keelah se’lai.”_

Without another gesture, without a sound, Legion collapsed onto the hard-packed soil of Rannoch. All of its lights faded. Nothing but a broken machine remained.

* * *

I’m not sure how long I expected the truce to last. It held for five minutes. Then ten.

To my surprise, Admiral Raan appeared about then, leading a small contingent of quarians, moving painfully as if she had suffered some injury. Her ship had been mortally wounded in the last moments of the battle, forced to make an emergency landing not far from our position.

“Commander!” she called, approaching us.

Tali rushed to help her friend.

Shepard waved to Raan. “Admiral. Glad you got out in one piece.”

“We were not certain we would survive,” said Raan. “These hills are crawling with geth.”

“Did they do anything to threaten you?”

“No.” Raan shook her head in disbelief. “They only watched us as we passed. Some of them turned to follow us. They may be here at any moment.”

“I don’t think you need to worry,” Shepard said quietly, glancing at where Legion’s abandoned platform still lay huddled in the dust. “When the geth arrive, I suspect you will find they’ve changed.”

“I know. I couldn’t transmit, but I was listening over the comm. Thank the ancestors that Gerrel stopped when he did.”

“It was a close thing.” Shepard slumped a little, lost his usual confident carriage. “Biggest gamble I ever made. I’m sorry, Admiral.”

Raan peered at Shepard through the visor of her suit. “If Gerrel had _not_ stopped, would you really have permitted the geth to destroy us?”

“I had my weapon ready to shut down Legion’s transmission at the source,” Shepard admitted. “I’m just glad I didn’t have to use it.”

“As am I.” Raan wrung her hands nervously. “Still. We’ve taken such heavy losses. So many dead. I don’t know if we can . . . Where are we supposed to go now?”

We all heard it, a faint sound of mechanical servos working, as something climbed the slope leading up to our position.

Tall, powerfully built, crimson in color: a Prime. Raan stepped back, away from the massive machine, and her crew murmured nervously. Tali drew her sidearm once more.

The machine loomed over all of us, and _spoke_. “You are welcome to return to Rannoch, Admiral Raan. With us.”

Shepard eased forward, peering up at the Prime, thinking its voice sounded familiar. “Legion?”

“No. I’m sorry, Commander. Legion sacrificed itself to give all of us individuality and true sentience. It will be honored.”

Shepard sighed, a sound of deep satisfaction. “Good.”

“We will also honor Legion’s promises to you, Commander. The geth will oppose the Old Machines. Our engineers will assist in the completion of the Crucible. When the time comes, our fleet will be there to assist you in retaking Earth.”

“As will ours, of course,” said Raan.

“Thank you both,” said Shepard.

The geth turned to Raan. “Admiral, you will find that we have preserved Rannoch carefully. For a long time, we did this in ignorance, out of caution. Now we are pleased that we can return your world to you. Have you considered where you might wish to begin resettlement?”

“To be honest, we haven’t thought so far ahead. I suppose none of us wanted to hope too much.” Raan considered. “The southern continent had excellent farmland, as I recall.”

The Prime nodded. “We will begin preparations immediately. You will require shelter, power, and network infrastructure. We are willing to lend as much assistance as you may need.”

Raan _stared_ at the geth for a long moment. “Thank you. I will consult with the other admirals.”

“Servants of the People again?” Shepard asked mildly.

“No, Commander,” said the geth. “We will live for ourselves now, and pursue our own priorities. But now that our existence is no longer under threat, we can afford to be generous. Perhaps one day, we and our Creators will be the close friends and allies we should have been from the beginning.”

“Admiral? Are you going to be okay?”

Raan nodded. “It will not be easy, but yes, Commander. I believe we are.”

Shepard turned to us. Only to see Tali wander away, her back to all of us, looking out to the distant sea. Shepard and I followed her, standing beside her as she drank in the landscape and tried to come to terms with all that had happened.

“Shopping for another house?” Shepard asked at last.

“Beach-front property,” Tali sighed.

“Better claim it fast. It’s a buyer’s market.”

Tali sat down on a convenient rock. We joined her there, and rested for a time in a companionable silence.

“You okay?” Shepard asked after a while. “I know working with the geth will be difficult.”

“I’m not staying. I’m coming with you.”

He chuckled. “I wasn’t going to ask.”

“I know, but you need me. I can act as a liaison for my people, and for the geth as well. Until the Reapers have been defeated, Rannoch still is not safe for any of us.”

“If you’re certain.”

“Yeah. I am.” Tali sighed. “I look at all this peace, and all I can think about is all the people I’ve lost. My team on Freedom’s Progress. My team on Haestrom. My father. Even Legion. I’m mourning a _geth_. How crazy is that?”

“It’s not crazy at all.”

Tali rose to her feet once more, still staring out across the landscape.

“It is beautiful, though, isn’t it?”

Shepard only nodded.

“It will be years before we can live without our suits completely, but for now . . .”

She reached up and carefully detached her visor, pulling it away. Shepard and I saw her face, the first unmasked quarian either of us had ever seen. One of the few unmasked quarians _any_ outsider had seen in three hundred years.

I suppose I should not have been surprised. I had known Tali for several years, had fought at her side, had shared any number of confidences with her. I knew her _soul_ was beautiful, and didn’t care about her outward appearance. Outward appearance didn’t seem to matter much to quarians anyway.

Pale violet skin tone, with interesting shading around her eyes and along her jawline. Facial structure not quite human or asari, long and delicate, with cheekbones many asari would have killed for. Human-like eyebrows that fanned upward at the outer corners. Lovely pearlescent eyes, with no obvious iris or pupil. A few tufts of dark, almost human-like hair, escaping past the edges of her cowl.

Even under normal circumstances, I would have found her quite beautiful. Now, with a lifetime’s desperate longing for her homeworld finally coming to fruition, she positively _shone_.

“For now, I have this.”

I stepped forward and put an arm around her shoulders, embracing her while we both looked out across the austere Rannoch landscape. Shepard loomed up close behind us.

One moment of perfect peace. Almost the last one we ever had together.


	46. Bacchanalia

**_13 June 2186, Upper Kithoi Ward/Citadel_ **

Music. Lights. Voices.

Admiral Anderson’s apartment had probably _never_ seen a crowd quite like this. Almost forty people scattered across a half-dozen rooms, clustered into conversations or dance groups. Shepard’s stocks of snack food, wine, and harder liquors melted like snow in spring sunlight.

“It’s time to gather our friends and blow off some steam,” he had said, on our way back from Rannoch. “Might be our last chance.”

Prophecy.

* * *

“First time I met Shepard?” Garrus leaned back in his place on the couch in the living room, reviewing memories. “He didn’t impress me. Humans in general didn’t, back then. On the other hand, I was getting nowhere with my investigation of Saren, so I figured, why not see if this guy can get the job done?”

“And the rest is history,” said Tali, carefully fitting a straw through a port in her helmet. It amused me to notice just how closely she sat to Garrus.

“You could say that.”

“The first time _I_ met Shepard, all I could think was: _Eugh. I hope he took a shower, because my filters need replacing and humans carry a_ lot _of germs.”_

“And now here you are, drinking his alcohol through a straw,” I observed. “I’d call that progress.”

_“Emergency induction . . .”_

Garrus snorted. “It’s a _straw,_ Tali.”

“I _have_ gotten a lot more broad-minded over the past three years,” she agreed. She glanced at Garrus, not nearly as surreptitiously as she thought.

“Should my ears be burning?” asked Shepard, looming up behind me, one hand holding a glass of wine, the other resting on my shoulder.

Tali shook her head in disgust. “Your ears, _burning_. Human metaphors can be appalling, do you know that?”

“I’ve often thought so,” I chuckled.

“If you mean, have we been talking about you, then yes.” Garrus chuckled. “Not that we were being all that complimentary.”

“First impressions,” I explained.

“Ah.” Shepard chuckled. “And what about _your_ first impression, T’Soni?”

“That’s hardly fair. As I recall, the three of you all met me at the same time, and I should be more worried about your first impressions of _me_.”

“Yeah,” Garrus said slyly. “There you were, pinned up in mid-air, three days without a shower or a change of clothes. Probably the _least_ sexy asari I had ever seen.”

“I wasn’t at my best,” I admitted. “Although I will say, I thought Shepard one of the ugliest creatures I had ever met.”

Tali sputtered, removing the straw from her helmet with extreme care.

“Good thing you changed your mind,” said Shepard mildly.

“The eye can become accustomed to almost anything in time,” I teased.

“It’s been a strange time, hasn’t it?” said Garrus, suddenly sober.

“That it has,” Shepard agreed. Tali and I nodded in silence.

“Although some things _have_ turned out a lot better than we might have expected.” Garrus raised his glass in a mock toast. “After all, Shepard, you’ve made friends with the rachni. _Twice_. Helped cure the genophage and set up an alliance between krogan and turians. Found the oldest sentient species in the galaxy and talked them into fighting the Reapers. Convinced the quarians and geth to make peace. Now all you have to do is figure out how to befriend the Reapers themselves.”

“No pressure,” said Shepard ruefully, taking a sip of his wine.

“Hey, you’re already a galactic hero. You manage _that_ trick, they’ll probably make you a _saint.”_

* * *

“What’s going on here?” Shepard asked up on the balcony, his arm comfortably around my waist as I sipped another glass of wine.

“The tank-bred krogan is wondering whether it or the clan leader would prevail in personal combat,” said Javik.

“You have to admit, Shepard, it’s a good question,” rasped Zaeed Massani.

“It _is_ a good question,” Shepard agreed.

“No, it’s not,” said Wrex smugly. “Age and experience will beat youthful enthusiasm every time.”

“Hah!” barked Grunt. “About the only thing _you_ could defeat is a glass of warm milk!”

“You want to demonstrate that, Junior, I’m ready whenever you are.”

I glanced at the two krogan in some alarm, wondering how serious they were.

_Probably not serious enough to splash blood on the floor. Unless they’ve already had too much ryncol._

Grunt roared, loudly enough to stop conversation in most of the apartment, and then lunged forward to give Wrex a ferocious head-butt.

Wrex did not step back, although he did crouch and shake his head as he recovered.

“Not bad, Junior. Not bad.”

Then, without warning, without any roaring, Wrex made his own lunge. The sound of their head-plates meeting sounded like a thunderclap.

Grunt stumbled backward, one step, then two. He shook his head and peered up at Wrex. “Ow.”

“Heh heh heh,” Wrex rumbled. “I still got it. Come on back when your plates have finished fusing, kid, and talk to me again.”

* * *

I happened to be close to the door when Ashley Williams arrived, somewhat late, looking rather stunning in an ankle-length, close-fitting gown in very dark blue. Her hair had been pulled back and braided, a long rope of glossy midnight falling down her back. Her eyes glittered with anticipation.

I had to do a double-take when I saw her date.

“Ashley,” I greeted her with a short hug. “Commander Bailey.”

He gave me a small smile and shook my hand. “It’s _Owen_ tonight, Doctor. For once, I’m off-duty.”

“All right, Owen. Then I’m Liara.”

“My pleasure.” He glanced at Ashley, a twinkle in his blue eyes. “Think I’ll go find the bar, hon. Your usual?”

“Should do for starters,” she agreed.

Bailey moved away, leaving me staring at Ashley with an amused expression on my face.

“Yeah, I know.” She sighed. “I met Owen in the hospital. He and Kolyat visited Thane pretty regularly. One time they came by while Thane was helping with my physical therapy. Owen and I ended up talking for a couple of hours. Then, after I got out and went to work with the Council, he and I saw a lot of each other while on duty.”

I nodded, thinking about the C-Sec commander’s personality and personal history. Come to think of it, he _would_ be the kind of man to appeal to Ashley: very masculine, courageous, highly competent, rough-hewn and not entirely civilized, but capable of great compassion. Rather like Shepard, in fact.

“He’s a good man,” I murmured, slipping my arm through Ashley’s and guiding her over to a couch in the living room. “Is it serious?”

Ashley gave me a sharp glance. “Not sure that’s any of your business, Liara.”

“I know.” I sighed, reviewing memories. “Ashley, I feel as if I owe you an apology. Back when we were on the first _Normandy_ together . . .”

She shook her head, easing down to the couch and letting me sit close by. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for. Yeah, I took an interest in Shepard. So did almost every woman on the ship. Plus at least three of the men.”

I snorted. “I’ll take your word for it. I wasn’t very good at reading humans back then.”

“I remember.” She gave me a wicked smile. “You’ve certainly improved since then. I can guess how.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, reaching out to pat my knee affectionately. “You two have been good for each other. Meanwhile, I’m a big girl and there are plenty of fish in the sea. Besides, none of us have time right now to waste on might-have-beens.”

“That’s true enough.”

“Comparing me to a fish?” Owen rumbled in his rough voice. “Thought I rated a little higher on the evolutionary chain than _that_.”

“Only if you brought me . . .”

“One vodka martini, with a twist.” Owen handed the drink to Ashley as he sat down at her other side, quite close. “Just the way you like it. Shepard even had the right brand of vermouth.”

“That promotes you to mammal status,” she decreed, taking her first sip.

“Something large and aggressive, I hope.”

“We’ll have to discuss that later.”

* * *

I found an unusual group in the Admiral’s study, enjoying our hospitality like all the others, but not at all engaged in idle conversation. Jacob Taylor sat on a couch with Brynn Cole, the two of them drinking a sweet carbonated beverage rather than alcohol, out of deference to Brynn’s pregnancy. Ann Bryson and Samantha Traynor stood in the middle of the room, building an elaborate holographic map of the galaxy while Greg Adams, Ken Donnelly, and Gabriella Daniels looked on.

“None of you are supposed to be working right now,” I reproved them.

“Well,” said Samantha. “Logically speaking, what we are _supposed_ to be doing is _having fun._ Which we are.”

Ann Bryson nodded, not looking away from the map. “This is a very interesting problem.”

I surrendered with a sigh. “All right, then what is it you’re working on?”

“The location of the Intelligence,” said Greg, taking a sip of his whiskey.

“Gabby had a keen idea,” said Ken, a proprietary arm around the petite engineer’s waist. “Y’see, she thought to look at the topology of the relay network, and noticed something a wee bit odd about the level of _k_ -connectivity in it . . .”

“Executive summary, Kenneth.” Gabriella dug an elbow into her lover’s ribs, cutting off the spate of words. “The relay network is more complex than it needs to be, that’s all.”

“What are you suggesting?” I inquired.

“Well, we already know the mass relays can move data as well as physical objects,” said Samantha. “We use them as backbone infrastructure for the extranet, for example.”

“Aye, but the extranet uses the same connections as our starships,” said Ken. “Plod, plod, one step across the galaxy at a time. Might take six or seven hops, say, to get from here to Rannoch.”

Ann nodded. “We’ve always suspected that the network is capable of more direct connections. At least when it’s under the control of its true masters.”

“Like the Alpha Relay, in the Bahak system.” I frowned, reminded of what had happened there. “Dr. Kenson believed the Reapers could use that relay to reach every other one in the galaxy in a single step.”

“I think we have to assume she told the truth there. It fits what we know of Reaper behavior.”

“So what does that imply?”

Gabriella gestured, excited. “If _all_ of the mass relays are capable of more connections over greater distances, it increases the connectivity of the network to a degree that might support . . . well . . .”

“Cognition,” said Ann. “Awareness.”

“You’re saying the Intelligence is distributed through the mass relay network?”

Samantha nodded. “Maybe. Part of it, anyway. The part that has to gather information about what’s going on in the galaxy, has to keep in contact with the Reapers as they move around and carry out their operations.”

“We don’t know if the Intelligence is fully distributed, like the geth used to be until a few days ago,” Ann observed. “Only a part of its neural network may be implemented on the relays. There may be a central node somewhere, maintaining core functions and providing a locus for its consciousness.”

I blinked, a sudden inspiration crashing into my mind. “What about _right here?”_

“You mean, on the Citadel?” Greg asked.

“Why not?” I demanded. “It’s as close to a central node for the entire network as we’ve ever found. We still don’t understand all of how it functions.”

Ann shook her head. “I don’t think that’s likely.”

“Why not?”

“Several reasons,” she said, calmly demolishing my hypothesis. “First, no matter how well the Leviathans could miniaturize AI hardware, there’s a certain minimum size for anything as capable as this Intelligence. There’s just no _room_ for something like that on The Citadel.”

“What size _would_ it have to be?”

Brynn Cole cleared her throat. “That’s something of my field, Doctor. Given even a conservative lower bound for the capacity required, the Intelligence would have to reside in a mass of computronium the size of a small _planet_.”

“Aye, a real Jupiter brain,” said Ken.

“Maybe not _that_ big, but it certainly couldn’t be located anywhere on the Citadel.”

“All right,” I said. “What were your other objections, Ann?”

“If we can take anything the Leviathans told Commander Shepard as reliable, the Intelligence is on the order of five billion years old,” she said. “Recent work on the Citadel, following in Dr. Kenson’s footsteps, has come up with a probable date for its construction. No more than about fifty million years ago.”

“Which makes sense,” said Jacob. “Widow’s a hot young A8-class star, not much older than that.”

I folded my arms, rubbing at my jawline in thought. “Hmm. That suggests this isn’t the _first_ Citadel. The mass relay network is much older.”

“Probably correct, assuming the Reapers have been using the tactic of providing a Citadel for the use of organic civilizations since the origins of the relay network.” Ann shrugged. “The Reapers may build a new one every thousand cycles or so.”

“Did you have any other objections?” I asked.

“The last one’s mine,” said Jacob, to my surprise. “It’s not a scientific or engineering problem, it’s a simple intel-analysis problem. Suppose the Intelligence is located here on the Citadel, where it’s in a position to see everything we organics do, and where it has access to the controls for the Citadel mass relay. Then _nothing_ that _Sovereign_ did makes any sense!”

I nodded, suddenly seeing it and feeling rather foolish. “Why leave a Reaper behind between cycles to watch over the galaxy, if the Intelligence is here to do that? Why would _Sovereign_ have to go to such lengths to come here and activate the Citadel relay, if the Intelligence is here to do that too?”

“Well, the Protheans _did_ disable the keepers,” said Samantha, but she shook her head at that idea at once.

“No. If the Intelligence is here, what need is there of the keepers, and how could disabling them have any effect?” I exchanged a glance with Ann. “You’re right, it doesn’t make any sense. The Intelligence _can’t_ be centered here.”

“Which isn’t to say that the Citadel has no part to play in the Intelligence’s function,” Ann said. “I suspect if the Intelligence has a central node, it’s outside the galaxy entirely, somewhere in dark space. Somewhere the Leviathans explored, but where no organic civilization since then has ever reached. Perhaps the Intelligence spends most of its time withdrawn from the galaxy, not fully aware of what happens here until the Reaper scout triggers the next cycle. Which might imply that the Citadel is directly _connected_ to the Intelligence somehow.”

“Maybe the Crucible has to be _fired_ right here,” offered Samantha. “What if the Citadel is an interface point for whatever information it’s supposed to transmit to the Intelligence?”

“We don’t have enough clues to be sure,” said Brynn.

“It’s still as good a hypothesis as any I’ve heard,” I told them. “It’s very good work you’ve done here. Can you write all of it up and send it to Admiral Hackett?”

Ann gave me one of her rare smiles, minimal but quite warm. “In the morning, once we’ve all had a chance to sleep off Commander Shepard’s hospitality. Brynn and I will see to it.”

* * *

“Jeff, would you come and dance with me?”

“No,” said the pilot, taking another gulp of his beer.

“Many of our friends are dancing. It is an appropriate activity at social gatherings such as this.”

“That’s true. I see that they are. _I_ am sitting quite comfortably here, enjoying the music from a safe distance.”

“That’s all right, EDI. _I’ll_ dance with you,” said Shepard.

Joker laughed uncontrollably for a full half minute. Then he stood up and danced with EDI.

* * *

My father sat in the upstairs lounge, Sha’ira looking radiant as ever by her side, and the two of them held court. Most of their attendants were younger asari, of course, but James Vega (of all people) sat close to the center of the group, Treeya nestled into the curve of his massive arm.

“This is a very odd construction,” said Sha’ira. “I know of no asari dialect that has anything like it.”

“It’s pretty unique to English,” said James. “Back in what we call the late Middle Ages . . .”

“When was this?” Aethyta demanded.

James looked confused for a moment. “I don’t know for sure. Fourteenth century, maybe? Eight, nine hundred years ago?”

“Huh,” my father grunted, teasing him. “Something humans do that _almost_ dates back to before I was born.”

“What’s the subject?” I asked, dropping into an open seat, almost splashing my wine on Vara. My coordination had been suffering for a while.

“I’m not sure,” she answered. “Something called a _collective noun_. The humans apparently have different words for the same feature in different species.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, it’s like, we have different words for a _group_ depending on what it’s a group _of,”_ James floundered.

“It sounds like an exercise in inventing unnecessary words for no good reason,” said Shiala, amused. She shifted slightly, causing her deep-green skin to gleam in the bright light.

James chuckled. “You know, there might be something to that. See, if I remember right, this got started among hunters in a country called England. Back then, everybody got some of their food from hunting, but the aristocrats made entertainment out of it. It got fashionable to make up a bunch of new terms, so only the real fanatics could know what they were talking about.”

“Now that, I understand,” said Samara. “Do you remember, Matriarch, the _hypologistēs_ dialect?”

Aethyta snorted. “Yeah. Fortunately it was already dying out when I was a maiden.” She glanced around the room, saw most of us wearing expressions of polite incomprehension. “This all started, what, about three thousand years ago? Back when we asari first invented computers, data networks, that kind of thing. A whole subculture popped up around the new technology, and they just _loved_ inventing new jargon and slang that nobody else could understand.”

James suddenly sputtered. “You mean you asari had something like _leet-speak?”_

“Yeah.” My father rolled her eyes in exasperation. “It got so entrenched that it turned into a whole new dialect. Took centuries for it to die off.”

“Very well. So there was specialized vocabulary for hunters,” said Sha’ira, trying to get us back to the point. “How did this become part of the language as a whole?”

“Some of the words got into broad use. Like, for most grazing animals, the group-word for most of them is a _herd_. For most birds, it’s a _flock_. For most insects, it’s a _swarm_.” James shrugged. “Other people just thought the whole idea was funny, I guess. They started inventing new group-words for other things, not just animals.”

“Lieutenant Vega was wondering what the collective noun would be for asari,” Shiala explained, giving me an amused glance.

“That should be easy enough,” I observed. “What is the collective noun for human women?”

James looked uncomfortable. “The one I’ve heard is _gaggle_.”

“That is an ugly word,” said Sha’ira.

“It’s also a little insulting,” James admitted. “It’s the same word we use for geese. They’re birds. Bad-tempered, aggressive, kind-of-stupid birds.”

Treeya poked James in the ribs. Rather hard.

Aethyta gave him a mock-stern glare. “I bet it was _male_ humans came up with a lot of these words.”

James put both his hands up. “Hey, no argument from me. This was all a long time ago. At least by our standards.”

“Give us some more choices,” Vara suggested.

“Well, crows come in a _murder_ ,” said James, looking woebegone.

Aethyta grunted. “That might actually be appropriate,” she said darkly.

Sha’ira patted her wrist lightly. “Nonsense. What are some others, Lieutenant?”

“Eagles are better. That’s another kind of bird, and most people like them better than crows. They come in _convocations.”_

“I like that,” said Shiala. “It would suggest that we like to talk a lot, and hold formal gatherings.”

“All true,” Sha’ira agreed.

“The other bird one I remember is for larks. They make a pretty song, and a lot of people think of them in connection with daybreak. Larks come in _exaltations.”_

“Too arrogant,” said Vara. “Makes us sound as if we claim to be superior beings.”

Aethyta snorted. “You mean we _don’t?”_

* * *

The media room had transformed into a dance floor, all the furniture pushed to the walls, Glyph hovering overhead to manage a light show, music roaring out of concealed speakers with a pounding beat. At the moment I passed through, mostly women and asari occupied the floor: Diana Allers, Jack, Kasumi Goto, Kelly Chambers, Nerylla and Tania from my security detail, all gyrating with great enthusiasm to the sound of the music. Most of them danced as singletons, although if I could judge, Kelly and Tania were about two-thirds of the way through a process of mutual seduction.

“Yo, _Blue!”_

A warm, sweat-slick hand pulled at mine. Jack’s wicked smile. A drink pressed into my hand, something that made my lips tingle and my pulse hurry when I knocked it down my throat.

“You should let your hair down,” Jack shouted in my face. “Well. You know what I mean!”

I did know what she meant.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had simply danced.

Now I listened to the music, let it pull at my hands and arms, let my hips and feet begin to move, the heat and the scent-laden air like sparkling wine in my lungs. I closed my eyes and let movement take control. Heat ignited in my belly, spread throughout my body, filling me with delicious pleasure.

_Forget the war. Forget the Reapers. Forget the dead._

_For a moment, just live._

Glimpses . . .

Allers moving like a serpent, interesting shadows falling across her body as she spun in the light.

Nerylla stepping across the floor with an athlete’s trained grace, a wild white smile on her face.

Jack tossing off a drink of her own, then throwing her head back to crow at the ceiling.

Tania throwing her arms around Kelly’s neck, capturing her lips for a deep kiss, neither of them losing the rhythm for a moment.

Kasumi’s eyes glittering from deep within her hood.

He stood at the edge of the room, staring at me, almost devouring me with his eyes.

I turned, began to move with him as my focus, left no doubt in his mind what I intended for him.

He stepped out onto the dance floor.

Immediately a chorus of hoots and applause sprang up, making fun of his infamous lack of grace, but also happy for him as he reached my position. He stopped, more or less standing and shuffling in one place, while I began to trace intricate curves and lines in the air around him.

“Having a good time?” he murmured beside my face.

“Yes.” I pulled back to give him a scorching look. “Although if you wanted to steal me away later, I wouldn’t say no.”

He smiled down at me. “T’Soni, are you _drunk?”_

“Certainly not.” Then I had to stop and carefully examine my fingertips, because they had begun to tingle slightly. “All right, maybe a little.”

“Sounds as if I had better steal you away _now,_ while you’re still in a position to enjoy it.”

“But our guests . . .”

“They’re fine. There’s plenty of food, plenty of booze, and plenty of places to crash for the ones who don’t feel like going home tonight. Come on.”

* * *

We wasted no time. As soon as he closed the door behind us, I attacked him, yanking at his clothes, kissing his lips and every stretch of skin I could expose. I tasted sweat and the rich savor of his skin, felt the intense heat of his body across expanses of my own.

He seemed as driven as I, peeling me out of my gown in record time, gently pressing me backward until I toppled onto my back in the bed. Then he seized control of the situation, pinning me down, working his way down my body with his hands and mouth until I became completely nonverbal. When he finally rose above me and began our merger, I moaned in sheer gratitude.

Afterward he called for darkness. We lay quietly, still in each other’s arms, his sweat cooling on our skin, our breath and heartbeat slowing to normal. For a long time I felt myself floating, awareness of my own body muted, my mind still superimposed on his. Perhaps I slept for a little while; it was hard to say, my state of consciousness seemed so strange.

_“Liara,”_ he whispered, and I heard it in his mind as well as his voice.

“Mmh,” I groaned, just like that feeling awareness fall back into my body. Not that I minded. My body felt just _wonderful_ at that moment.

“There’s something I want you to promise me,” he murmured.

I drew away from him, just enough to look into his eyes in the dimness. Outside our room, I could still hear some of our friends enjoying their party.

“This sounds serious.”

“It is.” One hand came around to caress my face, rough, but warm and gentle. “Liara, I love you more than I can say. Every day I spend with you is a gift.”

For some reason, that made my eyes well up. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I feel the same, Shepard, you know I do.”

He nodded. “The thing is, Liara, I can’t stop thinking that we’re coming down to the end of things here. No more allies to call into the fold. The Crucible is finished, except for the Catalyst. If what you and the others figured out tonight is true, we may even know where it has to be fired. Soon, maybe just a few days from now, everything comes to a conclusion.”

I nodded in agreement.

“Afterward, I don’t know. With luck we’ll all see a new day. At which point you and I will have the rest of our lives ahead of us. Well, the rest of _my_ life anyway.”

For an insane moment, I remembered a conversation I had once overheard on the Citadel.

_Is this the lifespan talk? We’re not having the lifespan talk._

Then I set it aside. Shepard wouldn’t be worrying about what might come after his natural death, however many decades in the future that might be.

Shepard was worrying that he might not survive the next few _days_.

“I understand,” I murmured, tasting his breath, fully aware of his mass, his warmth in the bed next to me. “You fear that won’t happen.”

“Yes.” He sighed deeply. “Something tells me this is going to be _rough_. No telling how many of us will get through to the other side.”

“And if you do not?” I asked, my voice suddenly bleak.

“Then I want you to promise me that you will _live,”_ he said. “I’ve seen inside your mind too, Liara. I know it won’t be easy. If I fall, you can’t let that hold you back. If the Reapers are still here, the galaxy is going to need you to lead the fight against them. If the Reapers are gone, then the galaxy will need you to help rebuild. Either way, you might have a very long time before you. Time enough to find happiness. Time enough to find love. I want those things for you, for all the rest of your life, whether I’m here to share them with you or not.”

The tears fell like rain, then, and he held me close.

“I promise,” I whispered at last, my voice hoarse. “I’m asari, after all. I don’t know how other asari do it. I’ve never had a lover other than you, and I can’t _imagine_ how anyone could possibly compare. But I’m sure I’ll find a way to live after you’re gone. Somehow.”

He nodded in acceptance.

“But I will promise something else, Shepard. I will _never_ forget you. Not until the day I pass on to the blessed shores, and hope to find you there. Nor will I let the rest of the galaxy forget you. _Not ever.”_

He bent close to kiss my forehead. “That’s a nice thought.”

“Now, I want you to promise me the same.”

He drew back, blinking at me.

I gave him a shaky smile. “What, you never considered the possibility that _I_ might be killed while _you_ survive?”

“Not really, no.”

“That terrible, wonderful, male-human drive to protect your mate. You would think of it as an awful failure if you survived me, even if there wasn’t a thing you could have done.”

He took a deep breath, released it in a gusty sigh. “I suppose I would. God, I can’t even _think_ about that happening.”

“Then you listen to me, William Allen Shepard.” I gripped the back of his neck, forced him to look into my eyes. “I want _you_ to live. I want _you_ to lead the galaxy as only you can, in war or in peace. I want _you_ to enjoy happiness and love, all the days of your life, whether I’m there or not. _Promise me.”_

He clenched his jaw until it creaked, wrestling with some terrible passion. Then he relaxed, I could feel it in all his muscles. His neck bent until his forehead came to rest on my shoulder, and I held him close.

“I promise, Liara.”


	47. Thessia Burning

**_15 June 2186, Armali/Thessia_ **

The moment _Normandy_ dropped through the mass relay, we knew the Reapers had arrived first. While Shepard commanded a micro-jump into the inner system, hoping to reach Thessia as soon as possible, I listened to a flood of desperate transmissions. Asari all over the Parnitha system fought for their lives, and too many had already lost that fight.

It did not appear the Reapers had experienced much difficulty overwhelming our defenses. It seemed strange for the homeworld to fall so quickly. Some asari colony worlds had put up more of a fight, even with a small fraction of the population and resources. I wondered whether indoctrinated agents had infiltrated the planetary defense network.

_Probably. Just as likely that we’ll never know for certain._

“Liara, do you have anything more on this artifact?”

I tore my eyes away from the screen, the images of Reapers walking at their leisure through the cities of Thessia.

“I’m afraid not. Although the coordinates Councilor Tevos gave you match the Temple of Athame.”

Shepard’s eyes widened in surprise. “A _temple?”_

“Yes. It’s very strange. This is the place where I entered the Athame cult, when I was fifty years old and had convinced my mother to permit me initiation. I visited often while I still lived in her household.” I paused, called up data on my omni-tool. “According to some of the data Tevos provided, it also receives classified government funding, and has for centuries.”

“Certainly sounds like we’re on the right trail. Why would a temple get classified funding?”

“I have no idea. Matriarch Thessala didn’t confide in the Councilor. Whatever is going on, it’s very well hidden.” I glanced up at him. “Shepard, I find it very disturbing that Thessala is involved in this. The cabal that she and my mother participated in, they knew at least _something_ about the Reapers. Now she claims this artifact may point the way to the Catalyst.”

“You’re afraid we may find out something terrible,” Shepard said quietly.

“I went digging through my mother’s old files, at least the ones for which I could crack the encryption. Even though she was _siari_ , she appears to have spent a great deal of time at the Temple throughout her life. She had personal records relating to it, going back centuries. She raised no objection when I joined the Athame cult. I have to wonder if she hoped to recruit _me_ for the cabal one day.” I glanced at the viewscreen again. “Goddess, Shepard, what if we’re too late? My people are dying down there.”

“Your empathy is a weakness,” said Javik. “You must numb yourself to loss.”

Shepard sighed. “I know it’s difficult, love, but he’s right. You need to focus. You could spend all day counting casualties.”

“When you should be avenging them,” rumbled the Prothean.

“I’m sorry,” I told them. “These are my people. I can’t easily be that cold.”

 _“Rrrh.”_ Javik turned away. “War doesn’t always provide you a choice.”

“Coming in on final approach,” said Cortez from the cockpit. _“Damn._ That’s as hot a landing zone as I ever care to see.”

_If Cortez is afraid, it must be truly terrible._

Shepard nodded. “Then take us in fast, Steve.”

* * *

We landed not far from the Plaza of Explorers, where the statue of Vessa T’Selien once stood, her ancient vacc-suit helmet under one arm, her other hand pointing exuberantly toward the sky. Now it was a war zone, surrounded by the rubble of demolished buildings, threatened by walls of flame, the sound of weapons fire and explosions coming from all sides.

I wanted to scream a denial, but my throat locked up. All I could do was jump down from the shuttle and clamber down a ramp of wreckage, my eyes wide with horror, but my biotics and sidearm at the ready.

“Hurry!” shouted Javik. “We are exposed up here!”

“Let’s get down!” Shepard commanded.

We reached the bottom, finding ourselves in a hastily fortified strong-point at one edge of the Plaza. Perhaps a dozen asari soldiers fought from there, holding up barriers, firing weapons at distant Reaper troops, working frantically to repair broken equipment and broken bodies. I saw at least twice that many shrouded corpses, arranged in neat rows off to one side. Already the soldiers here had taken fearful losses.

“You must be Commander Shepard,” called one asari, a violet-skinned _tsakoni_ with red facial markings, in huntress armor with a lieutenant’s insignia. “We heard . . .”

_Crash!_

A barrage of missiles slammed into the improvised wall, just a few meters away from our position. All of us recoiled in shock. When I could pay attention again, I saw that the enemy had blasted a wide gap in the fortifications, and I could hear the moaning of husks approaching at speed.

“The barrier’s been breached!”

Shepard and Javik immediately ran to the wall, where they began to fight in its defense. Shepard found an unmanned gun turret, while the Prothean lay down fire.

I froze for an instant. Then I ran forward to where a single asari stood in the gap, trying valiantly to put up a barrier globe. I stepped up beside her, thrust out my hands, quickly synchronized with her, and _pushed._

Reinforced, the barrier snapped out to fill the gap.

Just in time. A wave of husks slammed into the barrier, with at least two brutes right behind them.

The soldier groaned, her arms trembling, her biotics flickering under the load.

“You can do it,” I told her, even though I could feel the terrible pressure in my own mind as well. “Match me!”

Shepard turned his turret, began to sweep the pedestrian bridge from which the Reaper troops attacked. The pressure eased off as husks and even brutes began to disintegrate under that hail of fire.

“Can’t keep this up,” the solder gritted.

I seized her hand with mine, sent my corona surging across to support hers. In that extremity, I found my mind overlapping with hers, a superficial joining so that I could lend her strength and determination.

She was so young, and she had never seen anything so terrible as this day.

Twenty seconds.

Another wave.

“Shepard, there’s a barrier engine behind the Reaper troops!” I shouted, still holding my partner upright, still putting my naked mind between the enemy and the asari behind me. “Can you reach it?”

“I’ll try!”

Forty seconds.

Another wave, this time with more brutes. Despite Shepard’s efforts, they got to the barrier and began tearing at it.

The soldier moaned.

Shepard hammered at the brutes with a hail of gunfire at point-blank range. Not even those massive creatures could stand up to it.

The last of them went down. No more appeared behind them.

Then another barrage of missiles slammed into the barrier, and my mind went absolutely white for a long moment. When I came to, I found myself still standing, the barrier still in place. Somehow.

Sixty seconds. Finally, everything went quiet.

The pressure removed, my soldier partner collapsed to her knees, the barrier almost falling, but then she shook her head and rose once more. I clapped her weakly on the shoulder, and disengaged my mind and corona from hers.

“Thank you. I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

“Liara T’Soni.”

I turned away the moment I saw her eyes widen, saw the impulse to stammer out her gratitude.

_No time for that right now._

I walked over to where Shepard once more conferred with the _tsakoni_ , who appeared to be the leader of this unit.

“Commander, I’m Lieutenant Kurin. We were told to expect you.” She took a deep breath. “My orders are to hold this grid at all costs, but we’ve already taken over sixty percent casualties. Our perimeter’s collapsing. I have to get my people out of here.”

“This is important,” said Shepard. “We need your help.”

“I’m not sure we have any help left to give.” Kurin glanced over at the small field of covered asari, laid out in neat rows. “Unless you can give me a good reason, I don’t intend to die for a field of rubble.”

“What, exactly, were you told?”

“Nothing but your name.” A hint of resentment crept into Kurin’s voice. “Mission details were classified, which means we’ll just die without ever knowing why.”

“We’re after a relic inside the Temple of Athame,” Shepard told her. “It’s vital to the war.”

 _“That’s_ what this is all about? One of our outposts has been trying to reach the scientists in there ever since the Reapers showed up, but we’ve lost contact.” She glared up at another asari, performing repair work on the tail-assembly of a gunship. “Get that machine in the air, _now!”_

The soldier jumped down, gestured. The gunship roared off to fight once more.

Kurin shook her head. “I’m sorry, Commander. There’s nothing I can do. If that relic of yours has waited this long, it can wait a while longer. I’ve lost too many people today. I’m pulling the rest out.”

 _“Rrrh.”_ Javik pressed forward suddenly, seizing Kurin by her shoulders, _reading_ her. “I sense you have the lineage of a leader. A warrior’s skill and cunning. They are strong in your genes. But you’ve grown tired of war, exhausted by defeat. Now you worry that you don’t have the courage to go on.”

“By the Goddess!” Kurin suddenly pulled herself out of Javik’s spell, pushing the Prothean away. _“What are you?”_

“One who knows you and your people, asari.” Four hot yellow eyes stared at her. “Find your resolve. This war can end if you do.”

I watched Javik, suddenly suspicious.

_He’s hinted from time to time that he knows more about asari than he chooses to reveal. Are we about to get beyond hints?_

“He knows what he’s talking about,” said Shepard.

“I don’t doubt it,” said Kurin, finally convinced. She nodded decisively and opened her communications. “This is Lieutenant Kurin to all units. Hold your positions. I want a path carved to the Temple of Athame! Outpost Tykis, we’ve got people coming your way!”

“Thanks, Lieutenant.” Shepard readied his Claymore with a grim smile.

“Don’t thank me, Commander. Just make it count.” Kurin turned to where her remaining troops waited for her orders. “Let’s make sure the galaxy knows this war was won on Thessia!”

* * *

“Goddess. This was my home city once. To see it like this . . .”

“It can be rebuilt,” said Shepard, not without compassion. “Just worry about the next twenty meters.”

I remembered Earth, and disciplined my voice.

A howling noise from above, oddly mechanical, and I saw a pair of harvesters circling over the wreckage at the end of our bridge. Blurred movement indicated the deployment of more troops, cannibals and marauders taking up a position before us.

I gritted my teeth, my lips pulling back in a snarl.

“Good, asari.” Javik crouched next to me, behind cover, as we waited for the enemy to appear. “Draw strength from your anger. It will keep you alive.”

Shepard nodded. “Yeah, remember that, because _here they come.”_

We fought.

The three of us proved very effective, all of our biotic talents meshing like pieces of a well-designed machine. We lay down fire, took turns advancing from cover to cover, and tore the oncoming Reaper creatures to shreds with our minds.

Shepard in particular seemed inspired, his biotic feats coming with incredible frequency, only a few seconds of cool-down even between uses of his new _flare_ technique. Despite my own grim concentration, a thread of cool astonishment wound its way through my mind as I watched him.

_How is he doing that?_

_He has transcended himself. Attained heights reached by no other human. He may have become a more powerful biotic than any asari._

_Has he cast off some final restraint?_

We reached the opposite side of the bridge, fought our way through a wrecked building and out the other side. Into a courtyard _swarming_ with Reaper creatures.

“Scatter and take cover!” Shepard commanded

Then he blurred and vanished, flash-charging out into a thick concentration of the enemy. His nova-blast scattered them, opening a gap, giving Javik and me a chance to deploy.

_Boom. Boom. Boom._

Blue-white light lashed out in all directions, with the occasional bark of red coming from his Claymore and its incendiary rounds. Cannibals and marauders all but vaporized in his wake.

“Watch the perimeter!” Javik shouted.

The Prothean and I rushed to support him.

“Watch out, more on the way,” Shepard warned us.

We crossed the courtyard, a few meters at a time, and not a single foe lived to get behind us.

“Up ahead!” I called out. “That door looks like a way out of this mess.”

“Make for it!” Shepard agreed.

The cannibals and marauders could not stand in our way. Even a _banshee_ appeared, and went down within moments under the concentrated pressure of our biotics and weapons fire. It was the first time we had ever faced a banshee and had no difficulty defeating the thing. I began to hope we might win through in time.

“Let’s get moving, before more of them come back.”

We climbed through the wreckage of another building.

“I still have a hard time facing those things,” I admitted. “My own people, twisted and ruined.”

“When we fought the Reapers, they turned our own children against us,” said Javik.

“I can’t imagine that.”

“They assumed we would hesitate to kill them.”

I glanced at the Prothean. “Did you?”

“What answer would you prefer?”

 _“Rrrh,”_ I said, unconsciously imitating his sound of cynical disgust. “None. Let’s stop talking about this.”

He said nothing, only readying his weapon in agreement.

* * *

At one point we emerged into another plaza, where I could see an asari sniper nest on a balcony in the middle distance. Shepard gestured, indicating that he wanted to move in that direction.

Then that _sound_ rang out, the horn-blast of a Reaper establishing its effortless dominance over everything that lived and scurried beneath it. We all saw the monstrous creature, towering into the distant sky, walking slowly through the city less than a kilometer away.

“I remember seeing one of them for the first time,” said Javik. “My people had stopped believing in devils. We changed our minds when the Reapers arrived.”

“Quiet,” Shepard ordered, crouching behind some cover.

From his position, we could see the plaza before us. There were a few Reaper creatures there, most of them cannibals, devouring their own dead to replenish their energy and resources. For once, none of them seemed aware of our presence.

“The asari snipers have exacted a price,” Javik observed.

“We can do the same from our side,” Shepard suggested, adjusting the controls on his shotgun to increase the range and precision of his fire. He allocated targets with gestures.

One, two, three, and all the cannibals went down without a chance to fire back. Shepard leaped out of cover, leading us toward the sniper nest.

In the distance, the Reaper moved on to our right, seeming to concentrate on some more pressing target.

“One less we get to kill,” muttered Javik. “Although the large ones are _much_ more difficult targets.”

“This is Specialist Cayla,” came an asari voice from the balcony as we approached. “Specialist Jineva was just killed by enemy fire. I’m the only one left.”

“ _What about Commander Shepard?”_ Kurin’s voice, over an external speaker. _“What’s your situation?”_

“No sign of any humans yet,” said Cayla. “Enemy forces have tripled in strength in the last ten minutes. I’m cut off from Outpost Tykis.”

“ _Understood. You must maintain position. Shepard will be there!”_

“If you say so. Wait. Here he comes.”

Shepard vaulted over a last piece of debris and moved out onto Cayla’s balcony, the two of us close behind.

“Watch your head!” the sniper barked.

We moved into cover at her sides. “How long can you hold out?” Shepard asked.

“Now that you’re here? As long as it takes!”

A moaning roar from below. Reaper forces moved out into the plaza.

Cayla began to ply her sniper rifle, and I soon saw that she had skill enough to give Garrus a challenge. “You really think your mission can win this war?”

Shepard nodded, firing down into the plaza as well, sending a flare down for good measure. “We get to the temple, and the Reapers are history.”

“Then grab some gear over there if you need it, and let’s do some damage!”

We did just that. Even Shepard picked up a spare Widow rifle, reverting to the combat style I had seen him use years before. Javik’s own beam weapon also proved superb at picking off the enemy at a distance. I had no such skill, but biotic warps and singularities worked just as well.

“This is a kill-zone!” shouted Javik, with genuine pleasure.

 _Crash. Crash. Crash._ Shepard fired as quickly as his weapon would allow. He lacked the cold accuracy I had once seen in him, but that only meant he was _skilled_ with the weapon, rather than _utterly deadly_.

“Good shot!” shouted Cayla.

Before long, the Reaper wave broke and we could consider moving on.

“Outpost Tykis isn’t far from here,” said the sniper. “I can cover you part of the distance. Good luck, Commander.” 

We advanced, _toward_ the Reaper, since that appeared the only path available to us. Fortunately the thing remained focused on other concerns. Down through the plaza, along a short street, around a corner, and we could see the Temple of Athame less than a kilometer ahead. For the moment nothing seemed ready to attack us.

“This nightmare never ends,” I panted.

“The hell it won’t,” said Shepard. “We get to this artifact, and we can all wake up.”

“Fifty thousand years later,” Javik muttered.

* * *

Our first sign of Outpost Tykis was a single asari, running for her life from the direction of the Temple, a hail of gunfire and explosions following her. One detonation occurred right behind her, lifting her from her feet and flinging her twenty meters through the air. Fortunately she was asari, and trained, and she could use her biotics to moderate her fall. Even stunned, she pushed herself back to her feet and recovered her weapon.

Shepard got there just in time to help her stand, but then the storm of weapons fire caught up with us.

“ _Watch it!”_ shouted the soldier.

All of us dove for cover, but not before I glimpsed a great wave of Reaper creatures moving down a row of terraces toward us. Cannibals, marauders, and brutes, _and_ ravagers, and _more than one banshee_.

_Oh Goddess, we may be fighting at the top of our form, but we’re getting tired, and there are too many of them._

“We’re trying to reach Outpost Tykis,” Shepard said, a little out of breath.

“You’re looking at it,” said the asari.

“What about the rest of your squad?”

“All dead. We tried punching through to the Temple and the scientists, but I’m all that’s left.”

“Any possibility of reinforcements?”

She shook her head, wincing as another explosion went off close by. “We had gunships flying support, but with that Reaper close by things got too hot. They had to pull out.”

Shepard’s jaw set in determination. “Soldier, we _need_ that support. This is our only chance to stop this war once and for all. We have to get into that Temple. Casualties or no.”

“Commander, at this point, casualties are about all I can guarantee you.” Even so, she activated her comm. “Talon Swarm, this is Outpost Tykis. Is anyone left alive on this frequency?”

“We are in immediate need of close air support! Commander Shepard is here!”

A burst of static, and then: _“Copy. This is Talon One. On the way.”_

Another asari voice: _“Talon Five inbound as well.”_

Seconds later, we heard the roar of engines overhead. All of us looked up to see two gunships sweep by, their pilots maneuvering at great risk to bring their weapons to bear on the Reaper troops.

“ _Ground targets confirmed,”_ said Talon One, her voice glacially calm. _“Weapons hot. Light ‘em up!”_

The sound of cannon fire deafened me, like the end of the world happening mere meters away. I peeked around the corner of my cover, and saw the Reaper army melting like wax in a furnace.

Then one of the gunships took a hit, its whole tail assembly erupting into flame.

“ _I’m hit! Main stabilizer is going out!”_

“ _Pull out, Talon One.”_

“ _Negative, negative. No way to get back to base. Hang on . . .”_

Somehow Talon One regained partial control, enough to end her staggering fall, direct her flight toward the main body of the Reaper force before us.

Her gunship slammed down in the midst of the enemy, erupting in a vast ball of flame.

“ _This is Talon Five.”_ The other pilot’s voice suddenly sounded impossibly weary. _“Whatever you’re going to do, you had better do it now.”_

“Go, Commander!” The nameless soldier, the last survivor from Outpost Tykis, leaped up into an exposed position and began to lay down a desperate field of fire. “I’ll cover you as long as I can!”

Shepard snarled, bending down to pick something up from the ground at his feet. “Come on!”

We broke from cover and advanced.

Only to find that Talon One’s sacrifice had not dealt with _all_ of the enemy.

A banshee flash-charged down the terrace, one hop at a time, already almost in a position to tear into our team. More Reaper troops ran in its wake.

Like lightning, Shepard brought a weapon to his shoulder.

A missile launcher. Fired at point-blank range.

I screamed and dove for cover once more, and then the thing exploded.

When I raised my head once more, I could hear nothing but a terrible ringing, but the banshee was simply _gone_.

_Thank the Goddess for small favors._

We charged up the terrace, dealing with what few foes had managed to survive Shepard’s desperate ploy. The last gunship flanked us, firing ahead of us, keeping the pressure off so we could continue.

We almost made it without further losses, but then two harvesters swooped down around the corner of the Temple, engaging the gunship.

“ _Go, Commander. I’ll try to draw them off.”_

Talon Five succeeded, pulling the two harvesters away, out over the Kallianos Lagoon.

Leaving us to deal with a massive wave of husks.

At least they were _only_ husks. Switching to biotics, the three of us could deal with any number of such creatures. One, two, _detonate_. One, two, _detonate_. Singularity, shockwave, warp, throw, _flare_. We proceeded around the flank of the Temple, blue-green-white chaos clearing the path before us.

Another explosion out over the water, with a different pitch and timbre, marked the final stand of Talon Five.

Finally we reached the front entrance of the Temple, no more enemies to fight for the moment, all of us half-stunned. I bent over with my hands on my knees, dropping my sidearm, gasping for air.

When I could think coherently once more, I checked my omni-tool. Less than fifteen minutes since Cortez had dropped us off with Lieutenant Kurin.

“All this death,” I muttered.

“Let’s just make sure it was worth the price,” Shepard said, extending a hand to help me up. “Come on. We need to find that artifact.”


	48. History, Myth, and Lies

**_15 June 2186, Temple of Athame, Armali/Thessia_ **

“Looks like we’re in the clear,” Shepard observed after a moment. “Let’s get inside.”

We approached the front entrance of the Temple, the great colonnade and the ceremonial doors that had never once been closed in over eight thousand years. A kinetic barrier shimmered in our path, blocking our entrance.

“It appears this Temple has been barricaded,” said Javik.

“Let me take a look,” I said, spotting a set of controls off to one side, something I had never seen on previous visits. After a few moments of work, I nodded. “It appears to be military-grade encryption, but I should be able to crack it.”

“Do religion and military always mix among asari?”

“No. This is very unusual. Especially since few still follow the Athame doctrine.”

Suddenly lights turned green, a bell-tone sounded, and the kinetic barrier came down. We moved toward the doors, our weapons still out but at our sides, waiting for someone to emerge and greet us. Nothing. We could hear the sounds of battle from elsewhere in the city, the distant roar and concussion of Reapers moving about. Inside the Temple, all was silent as the grave.

_Not the best metaphor to be considering at this moment._

Shepard moved into the building, out of blood-tinged sunset light and into cool blue. He stopped, and stared in momentary awe.

He saw a vast open space, large enough to accommodate many hundreds of worshippers. Graceful lines and curves swept upward on all sides. A vaulted ceiling vanished into the distance far above, seemingly held up by sheer magic, so few were the visible supports. Here and there one saw ancient artifacts and scraps of text, displayed for the admiration of visitors, yet protected from the ravages of time. The great cultic statue of Athame, over twenty meters tall, stood graceful and silent at the far end of the aisle.

Silence. No sign that anyone was there, no sign that anyone had _ever been_ there.

“Where’s the scientific team we were promised?” Shepard murmured.

“No clue,” I told him. “Let’s look around.”

“Good idea. Maybe one of these artifacts is what we’re looking for.”

I shook my head. “I don’t see how. Everything on display here is thoroughly known. None of these artifacts have anything to do with the Reapers.”

“Are you certain, asari?” Javik’s voice was low, and had almost an _insinuating_ tone to it.

“I’m an archaeologist as well as a member of the Athame cult. I’ve studied all of these artifacts.”

“Perhaps you did not study hard enough.”

“All right,” said Shepard, as always trying to avoid a dispute among his friends. “What about these two items?”

On the right: a bronze sword, its hilt showing traces of elegant decoration, its blade corroded almost to nothing over many thousands of years. On the left: a bronze shield, just as ancient but somewhat better preserved, a stylized image of the Goddess sculpted on its face.

“This is supposedly Athame’s sword. There’s only one story in the Athame Codices in which the Goddess uses violence, the _Theomachia_. Supposedly she wielded this weapon against jealous divine creatures, who threatened our remote ancestors.”

“They were a race called the _oravores,”_ said Javik. “They hoped to build an interstellar empire of their own. Thessia had vast resources, which they coveted. We protected you from them.”

I stopped. Turned. Stared at the Prothean.

He stared back. Extra eyes gave him an unfair advantage.

“What are you saying?” I demanded, my voice gone hard and brittle.

“I do not know where that piece of trash originated,” he said calmly. “Your story of the _Theomachia_ , that I do understand. It was a story of how _we_ protected your primitive ancestors. Athame was us.”

For a moment, my mind simply shut down. The implications . . .

Not only for asari prehistory. For asari religion as well.

 _My_ religion. The cult I had chosen to follow, the deity I had chosen to revere, the ethical principles I had disciplined myself to obey.

I turned my back on Javik and moved across the aisle to point to the other artifact.

“The shield of Athame,” I stated. “Legends say she used it to protect Thessia when the heavens grew angry. Our ancestors probably misunderstood some natural phenomenon. Possibly a meteor shower.”

“It was an asteroid strike,” said Javik. “We deflected it. Your _gods_ were feeling kind that day.”

I whirled, stared at him again. “You claim that your people were _here_. Not just visiting, not just looking in on us. Actively intervening in events.”

“Yes.” He cocked his head at me. “A good thing for you that we did. Never mind the Reapers. You would have been extinct more than once had we chosen to pass you by.”

“An asteroid strike. These _oravores . . .”_

Then I had to stop. Something in my face set Javik’s eyes gleaming, caused Shepard to stare at me in sudden fear. I had probably turned a pale teal color, looking as if I was about to faint.

“The _‘o-ra-vo-re_ ,” I whispered. “I’ve _seen_ that word. In the records we recovered from the dig in the Eramethos Mountains, two years ago. A proper name, some kind of antagonistic collective. Vrandis Tren’s records referred to them several times.”

“Ah.” Javik _smiled_ at me, an expression I had rarely seen on his face. “You found records belonging to Vrandis? Remarkable. I knew her.”

“You. Knew Vrandis Tren. _You.”_

“Quite well. Did you not guess, asari? I was a senior officer in the task force assigned to evacuate the last Protheans from this world, just before the Reapers overran this region of the galaxy. I worked with Vrandis for many days.”

“Liara . . .”

Something in Shepard’s voice pulled my attention away from Javik. Just as well. I might otherwise have assaulted the smug creature.

Shepard stared at the shield. I followed his gaze.

Looked at the shape of Athame’s head, as it appeared on the ancient metal.

I had always assumed that the depiction was simply very stylized. Some primitive asari artist hadn’t understood perspective well enough to make the crest look realistic.

Now I looked at the shield. Looked at Javik. Looked back at the shield.

I realized that the primitive asari artist had been _quite_ realistic in her depiction of the Goddess. If Athame had been depicted with four eyes, I would have seen it at once.

“This is simply not possible,” I muttered to myself. “We would have known.”

“You certainly _should_ have known, asari.” Javik turned away from me, glanced around the Temple interior. “You are so very sophisticated. So dedicated to science and empirical reasoning. Legends and myths, stories of miraculous events, these do not fit your worldview. So you invent explanations for the old stories, saving you from having to confront the truth about them. Well, now I am here, and I am able to _give_ you the truth about them.”

So he did.

The story of how the divine messenger, Janiri, gave the asari seeds and taught us about the seasons.

“We didn’t want you to starve.”

The story of how Athame herself taught our ancestors mathematics.

“Before that, you could only count as high as your toes. We took pity.”

The story of how the Goddess granted our ancestors the powers of biotics, as a reward for their devoted worship.

“That _gift_ required many years of genetic research.”

The story of how the divine servant Lucen taught us about the stars.

“Your species was deemed to have potential. A shame you didn’t live up to it.”

The three of us ended up in front of the great cultic statue, Javik and I angrily staring at one another, Shepard looking unusually grim off to one side.

“I already knew that the Protheans visited Thessia. I already knew that Vrandis Tren came here to study my ancestors. You’re saying your people did more than _study_ us. You tampered with our biology, our culture. Taught us about the universe.”

“Yes.”

“You _uplifted_ us. Created asari civilization.”

“Yes.”

“No,” I insisted, my voice harsh with anger. “You did _not_ give us everything we’ve accomplished in the last fifty thousand years. Your scientists left Thessia. The Reapers came and rendered your people _extinct_. We were left alone, to build on whatever basic concepts you taught us. We _earned_ our civilization.”

“Are you sure, asari?” Javik’s eyes moved, scanning the interior of the Temple again. “We are missing something. I can sense it. This artifact, the one your government has waited until the final extremity to reveal to us. I do not know what it is, but I can guess.”

“There’s a Prothean beacon here,” said Shepard.

Both of us turned to stare at him.

While Javik and I debated, he stood before the image of Athame, his eyes sliding closed, one hand reaching out as if to touch an object unseen. Now he turned back to us, absolute certainty in his face.

“What? You’re sure?” I felt rather betrayed, by someone I expected to be on my side.

“It’s not something you forget.”

“But why _hide_ it so thoroughly?”

“The answer is obvious,” said Javik. “Power and influence. Your people hoard the knowledge of my race for your own gain.”

“No. That can’t be.” I shook my head in denial, although in the back of my mind I think I already understood the truth. “I can’t believe my people would keep something like this a secret.”

“Liara, haven’t you mentioned that Armali has been important for thousands of years?” Shepard stepped close, rested a hand on my shoulder to reassure. “A great cultural center, going back to your earliest history. Hundreds of scientific advances over the centuries, technological innovations, all coming from this one city. All of it originally centered on the cult of Athame.”

“That’s . . . true.” I glanced uneasily up at the image of the Goddess. “Our earliest civilizations centered here, on the Armali plains. The city has retained its importance ever since.”

“Suppose all that progress was supported by the presence of a Prothean archive?”

Javik grunted in agreement. “The priestesses of this goddess Athame kept the truth hidden. No doubt this beacon gave them an advantage when they sought influence over other asari. Then it gave this city an advantage over others in the competition for power. Then, when the entire asari race reached the stars, it gave them an advantage over other species.”

“You’re saying my people have kept this a secret for _fifty thousand years?”_

“Not all your people,” Shepard suggested, turning away to look up at the statue once more. “Like Councilor Tevos said, the Matriarchs are good at conspiracies. That cabal your mother belonged to, it might be a lot older, a lot larger than any of us realized.”

 _“Rrrh._ Although I am sure the rest of your people would not be inclined to ask questions, if the secret provided comfort, prosperity, and a chance to feel superior to others.”

I shook my head in disbelief.

“You can’t keep denying reality, asari. Even a small amount of Prothean information would give your species an edge.” Javik sneered at me. “Or are you insulted that no one thought to involve _you?”_

“Leave her alone, Javik.” Shepard glared at the Prothean. “Your people set up this situation, and it was a mistake. Anything you left behind for us is something we never had the chance to earn through our own effort.”

“No species has enough time to _earn_ such wisdom. The Reapers always destroy them first. Without our knowledge, you would have no hope of winning this war.”

“Well, if it is true, then the asari who chose to keep all of this hidden have a lot to answer for. We might not be in this mess if they had shared the knowledge more freely.”

I felt my hands balling into fists at my sides, as I thought of my mother, of Matriarch Thessala, of all the others who must have been involved over the centuries. “Yes. On that much, I think we can all agree.”

“Good,” said Javik. “That still leaves us searching for the artifact, with no help and very little time.”

I stepped up to the base of the statue, opening my omni-tool. “If there’s a Prothean archive here, there must be some way to initialize access, but I don’t see it.”

“I do,” said the Prothean.

He moved off to one side, to where a fragment of an ancient religious image stood on display. He reached out to touch a spot at the base of the display, and it _lit up_ with greenish-white energy.

I heard a crackling sound, and saw light shining through tiny gaps in the great statue’s outer surface.

“The activation process has begun.”

“That’s it,” I exclaimed, scanning the statue with my omni-tool. “The college of priestesses must have set up several access points around the room, where no casual visitor would trigger them. Check the other displays!”

Shepard and Javik hurried to canvass the room, examining every artifact, every scrap of the Athame Codex, every display case for further triggers. Shepard found the next, and then Javik located the final two.

I looked up, as a massive, roaring rumble echoed through the entire Temple.

Just in time to see the great statue of Athame dissolve, huge masses of stone falling free to shatter on the floor. The face and form that had stood watch over the asari people for thousands of years crumbled to dust in a few moments.

 _Goddess!_ I thought, for the last time in many years.

I fell to my knees, staring dumbly at the place where the statue had been. Staring at the thing at its core, the thing that had always been there, even if it had been hidden away. Sheets and blades of some strange metal, alive with green-white energy.

A Prothean archive.

One completely unknown to the scientific community. The largest I had ever seen, larger even than the ones on Kahje or Mars, and apparently still active after fifty thousand years.

Somewhere deep inside my mind, beliefs I had cherished for over half my life crumbled too. Beliefs I had taken into my identity, used to shore up the core of my soul.

Gone. A tissue of lies and deception, vanishing in the light of truth.

The Goddess was not a gentle, compassionate guide for the asari people. The Goddess was a sham, an illusion designed to bolster our racial pride. Designed to conceal the fact that nothing we built was ever truly ours, that we had never been more than a mere creation of the Protheans.

The Goddess was nothing at all.

Shepard stepped up beside me, hunkered down to my level. “Liara?”

I glanced up at him, and found myself unable to speak. My mind had locked up completely.

“Liara!” He reached down, pulled me to my feet, held me there by main force. “Snap out of it!”

“I . . .” I shook my head, violently. “I’m sorry, Shepard.”

His grip shifted, became supportive rather than coercive. “I understand, but we’ve got to keep moving. The Reapers are still out there, and we don’t have much time.”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” I turned once more to where the statue had stood, saw where the stone of the altar had broken, exposing a high-tech control panel. I stepped close to examine it, and found it set up with Prothean symbols. It took only a moment for me to find the final activation controls.

“That’s done it,” said Shepard.

Green-white energy welled up along the archive’s length, suddenly flared, giving rise to a bright sphere that detached itself and drifted down toward us. A hologram, alive with graphic images and bright skeins of text.

I nearly called on the Goddess again, felt my jaw lock down on the words just in time. “Fascinating.”

A voice resounded from the hologram, speaking in flawless Fourth Age Prothean dialect. _“Please hold. Obtaining chronological marker.”_

I opened my omni-tool, scanned the thing, and got absolutely nothing I could recognize.

“ _Time-scale established. Post-Prothean cycle confirmed.”_ Suddenly the hologram soared up into the highest reaches of the Temple, where I realized it could “see” out into the city around us. _“Reaper presence detected. This galactic cycle has already reached its extinction terminus. Systems shutting down.”_

“Wait!” called Shepard.

I blinked. He had used the _Prothean_ word.

_The Cipher must have worked its way into his language centers too, so he can use it consciously. He can speak Prothean. Possibly not as well as I do, certainly not as well as Javik does, but well enough to be understood._

“We need answers,” he continued.

It drifted over to him, hovering in the air centimeters from his face. _“To what question?”_

“The . . .” His vocabulary failed him. He glanced at me.

“We need to know about the Catalyst,” I said, also in Prothean. “We need to know what it is, so that we can finish the Crucible.”

Shepard nodded. “That’s right.”

The holographic sphere drew back from him, hovered in the middle of the triangle the three of us had formed. It shifted its shape, elongated, elaborated. Before long, a Prothean form stood among us.

“A memory of one of my people,” Javik mused, smiling slightly.

“ _I am called Vendetta. I am a non-organic analysis system, overlain with personality imprints taken from Pashek Vran, chief overseer of the asari uplift project. After leaving this world, he was killed in the battle of Tranbir Nine. Your remaining time is also at an end.”_

“Pashek Vran.” Javik glanced at me. “I remember him as well. If you want a new name for your deity, asari, that one will do.”

I felt my lips tighten in distaste, and said nothing.

“Do you know anything about the Crucible?” Shepard asked, imitating the word I had used.

“ _I received data downloads from the Crucible project for as long as it remained active.”_

“Then what happened to it in your cycle? Why didn’t you deploy it?”

“ _We were sabotaged from within. A splinter group argued that we should attempt to dominate the Reapers rather than destroy them.”_

“Is that even possible?”

“ _In theory. The Crucible is capable of altering the software substrate underlying the Reaper cognitive matrix. The difficulty lies in predicting what changes to make to seize control. No such knowledge was available to us. The separatist plan was doomed to failure, and in failing it shattered our order of battle. Later, we learned that the separatists were indoctrinated.”_

 _“Rrrh._ I always suspected as much,” muttered Javik.

I glanced at Shepard. “That sounds almost like the Illusive Man, and his obsession with controlling the Reapers.”

He nodded in agreement. “Not to mention that he and all of Cerberus are probably indoctrinated too.”

“ _This is not a surprise. Our studies of past eras led us to believe that certain patterns persist from cycle to cycle. The same peaks of evolution, the same valleys of dissolution. The same conflicts express themselves in every cycle, different only in contingent detail. The level of similarity is too great to be the result of random chance.”_

“The Intelligence that the Leviathans built,” I murmured. “It keeps setting up the same situation, hoping that one day the cycle will somehow yield different results.”

“ _If I understand your reference, yes. We suspected some force stood behind the Reapers, acting as the master of the cyclic pattern, its presence inferred rather than observed. The only thing certain is its intention: galactic annihilation. You now stand at that precipice.”_

I frowned in deep thought.

_Interesting, that Vendetta doesn’t know about the Intelligence. The Protheans must never have encountered Leviathan. At least not knowingly._

“There’s still hope for this cycle,” Shepard objected. “Tell us what the Catalyst is, how to integrate it into the Crucible. Trillions of lives are at risk.”

“ _Trillions of lives are always at risk. If the Reapers have already arrived to end your cycle, this discussion is futile.”_

“No!” Shepard folded his arms, staring at the hologram. “We can _break_ the cycle. We found your plans for the Crucible. We’ve almost completed it.”

“ _Your assumptions are faulty. The Crucible is not of Prothean design. It is the work of countless cycles, stretching back millions of years. Each cycle adds to it. Each improves upon it. Thus far, none have successfully defeated the Reapers with it.”_

“Then we’ll be the first,” said Shepard. “Tell us what the Catalyst is.”

“Listen to the human,” said Javik. “He can be trusted.”

Shepard’s head snapped to the side, and he _stared_ at Javik. He probably had never expected anything but cynical pessimism from the Prothean.

“ _I detect that you are one of us. You are Prothean.”_

“The last. Javik Taran, Commander First Class of the Arm of the Unity. I am the final hope to avenge our people.”

“ _You and your mission are known to me. Do you believe this present cycle can deliver proper retribution?”_

“I believe they have earned the right to _try.”_

“Tell us what we need to know,” said Shepard quietly.

“ _Very well. If you have followed the plans for the Crucible in detail, I will interface with your systems and provide support for integration with the Catalyst . . .”_

Then the VI stopped, motionless and silent for a long moment. I had just enough time to exchange a worried glance with Shepard.

“ _Indoctrinated presence detected,”_ said Vendetta. _“Activating security protocol.”_

The hologram dissolved back into the form of a shimmering sphere, drifting back over toward the beacon.

Suddenly I became aware of a bright light, shining into the Temple’s interior from the entrance. I turned, squinting, not sure of the source. It didn’t seem like anything the Reapers would produce.

A single figure stood silhouetted against the light. Human, male, rather short and compact. Wearing a suit of light armor that bore the Cerberus insignia. Not making any hostile move, not yet.

Shepard’s voice was full of loathing. _“You.”_

All of us drew our weapons.

“What do _you_ want?” Shepard demanded.

“Your attention,” said Kai Leng.


	49. Fall

**_15 June 2186, Temple of Athame, Armali/Thessia_ **

“Someone would like to talk to you,” said Kai Leng. He reached behind his back to produce a projector drone, tossing the device at us with a gentle underarm throw. Once it became active, he turned to walk away, utterly disinterested.

The drone drifted toward us, shimmering with light, creating an image: a male human in a fashionable business suit, standing in the midst of the Temple.

The Illusive Man.

“Shepard,” he said, not yet glancing at the rest of us.

“How did you find this place?” Shepard demanded, putting his weapon away for the moment.

“The Mars Archives, of course.” Now he did look to the side, his eyes lighting on me with a gleam of malice. “Or did your Shadow Broker miss that one?”

“Show yourself,” I said coldly. “I promise I won’t miss.”

“Stick to your talents, Dr. T’Soni,” he said, his image appearing to walk forward until he could reach up toward the Vendetta hologram with one illusory hand. “You’ve helped uncover the key to subjugating the Reapers.”

“Or destroying them,” Shepard said calmly.

 _“Damn it,_ Shepard!” The Ilusive Man whirled, stared at Shepard, and began to pace back and forth. “Destroying the Reapers gains us _nothing.”_

“I don’t know. How about peace? How about our survival? I wouldn’t call those nothing.”

“Our survival isn’t at stake,” said the lllusive Man, causing all three of us to stare at him in raw disbelief. “The Reapers aren’t after our destruction. They just want to _control_ us. Think about it. If they wanted to destroy all organic life, they could do it. There would be nothing left.”

“What the _hell_ are you talking about?” Shepard demanded, beginning to lose his temper.

“I _know_ them, Shepard. I understand how they think _.”_

“I think you’ve gotten a little too close to the enemy.”

“Your reasoning is flawed,” I put in. “Our encounter with the Leviathans told us a great deal about the origins and purposes of the Reapers. They are not interested in _controlling_ us in any coherent sense, Mr. Harper. Their only intention for us is complete annihilation.”

As usual, the Illusive Man showed a flash of irritation at my use of his true name. “Those so-called _Leviathans_ didn’t give you anything to substantiate their claims, Dr. T’Soni. I’m surprised to see a scientist of your caliber accepting subjective and second-hand accounts as solid evidence.”

“Ordinarily I would not,” I said coldly. “On the other hand, we have more than enough objective evidence to demonstrate that the Reapers are out to see _every one of us dead._ The fact that you maintain otherwise leads me to question your sanity.”

“I won’t be questioned, Doctor.” He seemed visibly angry now. “My mind is as clear as it ever was. More than clear enough to get the better of a traitor like _you.”_

“That remains to be seen.” I stepped up next to Shepard, stared into the Illusive Man’s glowing eyes. “I will stipulate that you don’t appear to be suffering from any ordinary form of mental illness. You are behaving as if thoroughly _indoctrinated.”_

Shepard nodded slowly. “You sound a lot like Saren did, just before _Sovereign_ filled him full of Reaper tech. Convinced that some way existed for organics to survive the Reapers. Rationalizing away every fact that said otherwise.”

“I am _nothing_ like Saren. I have no intention of surrendering to the Reapers, Shepard.”

“Call it what you please,” said Shepard, his voice gone very intense, his will focused on making the Illusive Man _understand_. “You’ve spent too much time close to them. They’ve dragged you so far over to their way of thinking, it doesn’t matter whether you _believe_ you’re opposing them or not. If you’re not careful, they will _own_ you, and every action you take will be in support of their ultimate goals.”

“If that has not happened already,” muttered Javik. “Our own separatists believed themselves the bitterest opponents of the Reapers. They fought us with great determination. In so doing, they ensured the Reapers’ victory.”

Shepard nodded. “If you truly care about humanity, you will stop fighting me. You’ll _join_ me. Join the alliance we’ve built.”

For an instant, I thought the Illusive Man actually considered Shepard’s words. Then his face closed down once more. “Don’t ever question my intentions, Shepard. I’ve sacrificed more for humanity than you will ever understand . . . and don’t assume you _know_ me. My methods for dealing with the Reapers are simply more refined than yours.”

Shepard shook his head in disgust. “You’ve forgotten everything you ever stood for. Cerberus was supposed to be humanity’s sword. Not a dagger in our back.”

“Poetic, but as usual you miss the point. You can’t beat the Reapers with blunt force, and since that’s all you have, you will never beat them.”

“With the data in this Prothean beacon, I can end this conflict, once and for all.” Shepard leaned in, staring at the Illusive Man from what would have been deep inside his personal space. “You’re either with me or against me. Make up your mind.”

“Done.” The Illusive Man’s image turned and began to walk away from us, back to where Kai Leng paced back and forth. The assassin had his sword in his hand now, moving like a carnivore waiting for a chance to kill. “Leng, the Commander has something I need. Please relieve him of it, and then bring me the data.”

The hologram shimmered and vanished. Naked once more, the projector drone returned itself to Kai Leng’s hand.

“Understood,” said the assassin, pocketing the drone. Immediately he dropped into a combat stance, about twenty meters away from us, keeping all of us in his field of vision.

He did not attack, merely waited for us.

On the other hand, when a storm of gunfire and biotic energy swept down on him, he _did_ dodge aside from some and put up a solid barrier to block the rest. Even Shepard’s first _flare_ didn’t do any obvious damage.

Shepard gestured to us. We advanced, Shepard up the middle of the aisle, Javik fanning out to his right, me slightly behind him and to the left. We continued to attack Kai Leng with everything we had, and although he showed no signs of worry, he _still_ refused to press an attack of his own.

A roar of noise. White light shone into the Temple from outside again, blindingly bright. Javik seemed unaffected, and Shepard simply tossed his head to slam down his polarized faceplate, but I had to squint my eyes nearly shut. Kai Leng seemed to vanish into the glare.

Then a storm of gunfire slammed into the Temple.

The three of us barely escaped with our lives, diving for cover as _something_ filled the Temple’s interior with death. I found myself separated from Shepard for a moment, as I crouched behind a row of empty seats.

_What is that? A gunship, hovering just outside?_

It seemed to last forever. I didn’t dare peek out, for fear that exposing my head even slightly would result in its being torn off. I lost track of my friends, lost track of Kai Leng.

I’m not sure what prompted me to look down. Perhaps some part of my mind processed the odd sensation when I shifted my weight, tried to move my hand a few centimeters.

The slight _stickiness_ of the floor, there where I knelt in hiding.

_Why is the floor here purple?_

Then I gasped in horror, as I saw the deep-indigo stains on my fingers, the palm of my hand, my knees.

I crouched in the middle of a pool of half-dried blood. Asari blood.

I peered under the row of seats where I hid, and came face-to-face with a dead asari.

I recognized her. Matriarch Thessala, once my mother’s partner in their secret cabal, later one of my political adversaries. One of the Matriarchs who _knew_ at least a little about the Reapers, and had kept that knowledge hidden from the galaxy for centuries.

Her eyes were open, her teeth exposed in a rictus of horror, her face twisted with rage. A great gash had been sliced open in her throat.

Now that I was almost on the floor, I could see two more bodies stuffed under the row of seats with Thessala. Two asari I didn’t recognize, wearing jackets typical for scientists.

I barely noticed that the gunfire had stopped, that the light from the Temple’s entrance had withdrawn once more. My mind was leaping forward, a chain of deductions unspooling like lightning.

“Damn it!” a distant part of me heard Shepard shout. “Where the hell did he go?”

_Thessala and the scientific team came to meet us after all._

_Someone got here first. Killed them. Hid them where we would be unlikely to spot them at first._

_Then they put the kinetic barrier back up, so we wouldn’t suspect anything_.

I pushed myself back to my knees, leapt to my feet, looking frantically around me.

“ _Shepard! Watch out! It’s a . . .”_

A flicker of movement, much too close. Then a tactical cloak dropped and Kai Leng stood before me.

I had just enough time to start calling up my biotics, bringing my sidearm to bear.

Then his sword lashed out and ran me through.

I stood there, my eyes wide with panic, my mouth open in a soundless scream, impaled on the assassin’s blade. The pain felt _incredible_.

I could still hear my pulse, so I guessed he had missed my heart, but it seemed quite likely that he had sliced open something else vital. Some cool, detached part of my mind said: _Liara T’Soni, you are dead._

I looked into his face, and saw just a hint of _satisfaction._

 _“Liara!”_ Shepard’s voice, raw with terror.

Leng turned away, whipping the sword back out of my body, and I collapsed like a sack of wet sand.

Suddenly I had an uncontrollable urge to cough. Fresh indigo blood splashed onto the floor, not much, but enough to tell me I was in serious trouble. It took all my willpower not to cough more than once.

My sidearm had fallen out of nerveless fingers. I didn’t know where it had gone, and I didn’t bother to search for it. Instead, with the hand that wasn’t clamped to the entry wound in my torso, I reached up and triggered the medi-gel tab on my jacket.

That helped. The external bleeding stopped at once, and the pain receded. I tried not to think about internal bleeding, a collapsed lung, maybe one of the big blood vessels in my torso severed.

_You may be dying, but you’re not dead yet. Get up!_

Sounds of combat, not far away. The scuffle and thud of bodies running, jumping, slamming into one another. Shepard growling his hatred and rage, like a great angry beast.

Somehow I pushed myself up on one elbow, gasping for air the whole time, and looked around.

I saw no sign of Javik. Shepard stood a few meters away, engaged in close-quarters combat with Kai Leng. The assassin backed away slowly, sword and kinetic barriers deployed in a defensive pattern. Shepard absolutely _blazed_ with blue-white light, enough biotic power in hand to crush Leng.

Except that he couldn’t quite _hit_ the assassin.

Powerful blows, spinning kicks, eruptions of biotic force, blasts from the Claymore: Kai Leng somehow dodged or deflected every attack, sometimes by the narrowest margins, but always by just enough to avoid Shepard’s wrath.

_Oh Shepard. It’s a trap. All of this is a trap. He has you fighting in a rage._

I tried to call out, but I just couldn’t get enough air for more than a bloody gasp.

Too late. I saw the moment when the jaws of the trap closed.

Kai Leng had led Shepard some distance away from me, out into one side of the sanctuary.

One hand flashed back to the assassin’s belt, came up with a small device, just large enough to fit comfortably in his palm. His thumb opened a safety cap, and then clamped down on the button it had just exposed.

The explosions felt like the end of the world. I felt myself thrown about like a limp bundle of rags.

The Temple, mortally wounded, shook and threatened to topple.

I collapsed again, my arms up in a futile attempt to shield my head from falling debris.

Kai Leng, forewarned, could leap back to the central aisle. Somehow, by some accident or malicious intent, that part of the sanctuary floor remained intact. The assassin remained safe.

Great spans of the sanctuary floor to either side cracked, crumbled, collapsed, dropped into the depths beneath the Temple. Priceless artifacts, many thousands of years old, fell to be crushed.

Shepard fell with them, vanishing into chaos.

Given more air, I would have screamed my denial and loss.

I think I must have lost consciousness for a few moments. When I came to again, somewhat surprised to find myself still alive, quiet reigned over the shattered Temple.

I rolled onto my back, blinking furiously to clear my faded vision, and then froze.

Kai Leng stood over me, looking down at me with cool detachment, probably deciding whether to finish me off. After a moment, he contented himself with a sarcastic comment.

“Cerberus thanks you for all your hard work.”

Then he turned his back and left me.

I knew I couldn’t stop him. I had other concerns in any case.

The space seemed very wide, between me and where I had last seen Shepard.

Slowly, painfully, pausing every few moments to cough and splatter more blood on the floor, I crawled.

Outside the Temple, I could hear an engine roar, fading into the distance. Kai Leng, getting away with whatever he had come for.

I glanced at the Prothean beacon, still shimmering in the distance. No sign of the Vendetta hologram. Doubtless the assassin had taken it.

I shook my head, ignoring the darkness that threatened to close down on my vision, and crawled on. Four meters. Six.

There I saw the edge, the abyss beyond, the place where Shepard had fallen. I had to at least look. I think, once I had looked, part of me planned to hurl myself in after him.

A strained grunt. A gauntleted hand appeared, clenched on the edge of the shattered stone floor. The other one appeared as well, scrabbling for purchase.

I gasped. Somehow I levered myself onto hands and knees, gathered all my willpower, and _lunged_.

The pain in my chest felt as if I had just been stabbed all over again. I ignored it.

My hand closed on Shepard’s wrist, an instant before he would have lost his grip.

* * *

**_15 June 2186, Interstellar Space_ **

I awoke to the sound of a vicious argument, carried out in asari dialect on both sides.

“With all due respect, Commander, you had _no right_ to take Dr. T’Soni down there without one of us as escort.”

“I understand your concerns, _therapōn_ , but my selection of mission teams has to be based on my tactical judgment.”

I groaned inwardly. I did not call on the Goddess, I resolved that I would never call on the Goddess again, but at that moment I truly wanted supernatural assistance. Anything to help me face the fact that two people who each loved me sounded ready to come to blows.

“Your _tactical judgment_ doesn’t seem to be very reliable. It very nearly got my principal killed today.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

I took stock. It seemed pleasantly dark behind my eyelids. I could hear familiar sounds: the ship’s main drive pulsing in the distance, medical instrumentation chirping softly close by. I caught a faint scent of antiseptic. I lay supine on a firm surface, a light cover over my body, comfortable, feeling no pain. I breathed easily and evenly.

“Your remorse does not interest me, Commander.” Vara’s voice, laden with poorly suppressed anger. “I want your word that you will not expose Dr. T’Soni to risks like that again. Not without one or more of my people on hand, to protect her more effectively than _you_ appear able to do.”

“You know I can’t promise that, _therapōn_. The mission has to take precedence. You may have noticed that we’re at war.”

“My home world is being destroyed even as we speak, _dull stone_. You may safely assume that I know we’re at war.”

I tried my voice. It worked, after a fashion. _“Vara.”_

Footsteps, hurrying across the floor. A sense of presence leaning over me.

I opened my eyes.

Karin Chakwas stood there, glancing at the medical monitors above my head, glancing down to check my condition. “Liara. Don’t move.”

I tried to speak again, produced nothing but a low rasp.

Dr. Chakwas produced a small bottle with an attached straw, helped me wet my mouth and throat.

“Vara,” I said, more clearly this time. “I don’t have the time or energy to say this politely. _Shut up.”_

I saw my acolyte’s face, her coloring faded, her eyes wide with chagrin. _“Despoina . . .”_

“Not another word,” I husked. “It is _my_ decision who among us goes with Shepard on ground missions. My responsibility. Not yours. Remember your oath.”

She looked mutinous for a fraction of a second, but then she regained control of herself and made a tense nod. “Commander. You have my apologies.”

“I understand, _therapōn.”_ Shepard gave her a sharp glance, but refrained from pressing the point. “You’re right. I’ve been under-utilizing your team, and this time it hurt us badly. With more hands on deck, asari who knew the territory, this mission might not have been such a disaster. Now we have to pick up the pieces. You have my word that I will give due consideration to including some of your team on any future ground missions, whether Liara is there or not.”

She stared at him for a long moment, and then seemed to relax, let go of her anger. “Thank you, Commander.”

“Good.” I took a deeper breath, still felt no pain, and closed my eyes again. “Good. What’s the situation?”

Shepard’s voice, bleak as winter: “Kai Leng got away with all the Prothean data. The Reapers are on Thessia in force. The whole planet has dropped off the grid, but we have to assume the worst.”

Vara’s voice, full of despair: “Millions dead already, _despoina_. Organized resistance has already collapsed across most of the planet. Within days, it’s going to be as bad as Palaven or Earth. If not worse.”

I wanted to say something, ask more questions, but instead my mind just shut down. I feared that if I opened my mouth again, nothing would come out but a long wail.

Dr. Chakwas, warm and reassuring: “Your own condition is surprisingly good, Liara. The blade didn’t sever any of your major blood vessels, although in one case it was a very near miss. The main difficulty was a puncture wound through your left lung, and some minor damage to your heart. I’ve performed surgery to repair the gross damage, and you appear to be responding well to quick-heal. Still, it’s a good thing you asari are tougher than you look.”

“How soon can I return to duty?” I whispered.

“I want to keep you here for a while. If all goes well, three days before I release you to your quarters and clear you for light duty.”

I opened my eyes again, did my best to project confidence. “Vara, I want you to work with Commander Shepard and Specialist Traynor. Keep the network moving. Support the mission. Can you do that?”

She braced her shoulders and looked resolute. “Yes, _despoina.”_

“Good. Now go.”

She went, not without a backward glance.

As soon as Dr. Chakwas withdrew as well, Shepard leaned close to take my hand and place a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Oh God. Liara . . .”

I shook my head and looked up at him, saw the pain and rage in his eyes. “None of that, love.”

“He played me. That Cerberus bastard _played_ me.”

“Yes.” I sighed. “He played all of us. He couldn’t access the Prothean beacon without our help, but he knew _exactly_ how to pull us into a trap once we had given him what he needed.”

“That’s twice he’s gotten the better of us.” His jaw set in grim determination. “It’s not going to happen a third time.”

“Is there going to _be_ a third time?” I asked hopelessly.

He nodded, and I saw a flash of the old confidence. “I think so. We have a lead.”

Something in his voice gave me a scrap of courage. I struggled for a moment, pushed myself up a bit against the pillows behind me. “Tell me.”

“It was Traynor who found it, actually.” He gave me a small smile. “You’d be proud of her. It was a very nice piece of analysis. She projected the path of Kai Leng’s ship through the relay network.”

“So we might be able to chase him down. Recover the Prothean data.”

“It’s possible,” he agreed.

“Where?”

“We can’t be entirely certain. She lost the signal. It looks as if he was heading for the Iera system.”

I frowned, my mind starting to work again. “Horizon?”

“Looks that way. Seems strange. There’s nothing there but the Sanctuary facility, but Traynor also noticed that the planet has gone completely silent. Suspicious.”

“Yes.” I frowned. “I wish I could go to my office. It’s just across the crew deck . . .”

“Don’t even think about it,” he commanded. “Listen to Dr. Chakwas and get some rest. You’ll be back in action soon enough.”

* * *

After an hour under Karin’s watchful eye, I graduated to sitting at a desk and eating a light meal. Then the door opened and my next visitor stepped in.

My spork stopped halfway to my mouth with its load of noodles and spaghetti sauce. I carefully put it back down and glared.

“I have come to apologize,” said Javik, standing at attention with his hands behind his back.

I blinked in mild astonishment. “That has to be a first. What do you feel the need to apologize for?”

“During the battle with the Kai Leng human, I lost sight of him. Before I could reacquire, he had moved to attack you. I regret this.”

“I think all of us lost track of him, Javik. You have nothing to apologize for.”

He lifted his head slightly, somehow contriving to look smugly self-satisfied, even while trying to apologize. “I am not concerned with the inefficient visual organs of asari or humans. Very little escapes these eyes. I did not lose him in the glare of his support vehicle’s lights. His pathetic invisibility device did not conceal him from me. But in the moment when I sought cover from the support vehicle’s gunfire, he created some manner of holographic image of himself, which distracted me. I did not realize the truth until it was too late and you had already been injured.”

I gave him my best aristocratic stare and nod. “Then I accept your apology, Javik.”

“Good.” He cocked his head, watching me. “Are you well, asari?”

“Well enough. And I have a name, _Prothean.”_

“Yes . . . Dr. T’Soni. Or do you prefer _Liara?”_

“My friends call me Liara. _You_ may call me Dr. T’Soni.”

“Then, Dr. T’Soni, are you well?”

I sighed and looked down at my plate of pasta, toyed with the spork for a moment. “Dr. Chakwas assures me I am going to be fine. Light duty for a few days, nothing more.”

“I do not speak of your physical health.” His stance relaxed slightly, his hands coming out from behind his back, his head not held quite so rigidly. He reached to pull a chair across the floor, and sat down in it a safe distance away from me. “You have learned a great deal that you did not expect, Dr. T’Soni. About your own people, and about mine. I am aware this has disturbed you greatly. I am concerned for how it may affect your effectiveness in the war. How it may affect the Commander’s effectiveness.”

“Naturally, you have no concern for me as an individual.”

“Naturally. I have no concern for _myself_ as an individual. We fight for our very survival, against an implacable enemy whose powers we can barely fathom. There is no time for us to indulge in useless sentiment.”

“I suppose you are right.”

I stared at him for a long moment, evaluating.

I would never like him. It would be very difficult for me ever to feel much compassion for him. He was too alien. He was too warped by his experiences: fighting a hopeless war against the Reapers for a lifetime, and then awakening into a universe in which his entire species had been hounded to extinction. He responded to his situation with a bigoted cynicism, bordering on cruelty. I could see only one redeeming feature in him: he was just as cruel, just as harshly demanding, to himself as to everyone around him.

That infinitely stubborn integrity made me realize that I might be able to _respect_ him.

“In that case, Javik, no. I am not well.”

He nodded in understanding. “You were proud of being asari. Proud of asari accomplishments, proud of what you believed to be your people’s moral superiority.”

“Yes.”

“Rather like we Protheans,” he said.

I snorted in bitter amusement, recognizing the accusation I had directed at him so many times, at least in the privacy of my own mind. “I suppose so.”

“Now you feel that you have been robbed of this,” he said relentlessly. “You did not accomplish these things on your own. Indeed, your people have behaved with dishonesty and hypocrisy, concealing your Prothean heritage for the sake of selfish advantage. To the point that you failed even to warn the galaxy about the Reapers, when that might have done some good.”

“Yes.” I took a deep breath, enjoying the sensation of air flowing through my lungs without pain. “Javik, I have a confession to make, and I suspect you may be the only person on board who will understand it.”

He inclined his head, waiting.

“I’m not sure the asari people, my own people, are _worth_ saving.”

 _“Rrrh._ Now this, I understand very well.” Javik frowned, looking down at the floor for a moment. “Such a sickness of the spirit, it was very common among my own people in our last days. We were a proud people as well. Proud of our science, our technology, our golden cities and invincible starships. Proud of our unity of purpose. Proud of our ability to rule over others, harshly but with absolute fairness.”

“Then the Reapers came and took all that away from you,” I said quietly.

“Yes. So easily that it constituted a profound _insult_. One we never managed to avenge.” He looked back at me, the usual heat of his eyes subdued. “Some of our people simply lost the will to continue. They saw no reason to preserve a species that had been so profoundly mistaken about its own merits.”

“Did _you_ ever have such doubts?”

“I have a confession to make,” he echoed me, “and I suspect you may be the only person on board who will understand it.”

I felt a smile on my lips, growing slowly.

“I _still_ have such doubts, Dr. T’Soni. Every day.” He cocked his head at me. “Yet now it seems my people may live again, if we are victorious, and these liberated Collectors fulfill their promise. Do you think we will be able to build the Unity again, just as it was, glorious and sovereign?”

“Not if the rest of us have anything to say about it.”

“Then it seems we will be forced to discover new ways to be Prothean. We will need to give up conquest and domination. We may even find ourselves learning this thing you call _humility_.” He gave me a cynical smile. _“Rrrh._ What a concept. It will be difficult.”

“So. Perhaps after this war, my people will need to find new ways to be asari.”

“It seems likely.”

“More honesty. Integrity. Generosity to others. Maybe a little humility of our own.”

“You are asari. You would know best what flaws your people must correct. If you wish at last to fulfill the potential we saw in you, so long ago.”

I picked up the one glass of wine Dr. Chakwas had permitted me with my meal, and took a sip. “Is that why you came to uplift us? Because you thought we had _potential?”_

“We thought you might become a useful subservient race. Given time, and a great deal of careful work.”

I found myself smiling, a twisted smirk not unlike his.

_Now, that’s more like the Javik I’ve come to know._


	50. Sanctuary Lost

**_16 June 2186, Iera System Space_ **

Dr. Chakwas worked one of her usual miracles. By the next morning, my condition seemed good enough that she redefined “bed rest” as “working from the bed in my office, with Samantha and Glyph to help, and wearing a medical monitor.” So the Shadow Broker got back to work, struggling to hold the last tatters of her network together, fighting to keep useful intelligence flowing to our allies across the galaxy.

Just in time. That day, the day Shepard went down to Horizon in pursuit of Kai Leng, turned out to be one of the most fateful days of the war.

First thing that morning, I contacted Councilor Tevos and gave her a detailed report on the Thessia mission. I laid out everything we had discovered about our Prothean heritage, and about the vast duplicity at the core of asari civilization.

To this day, I can’t be sure whether the truth actually surprised her. I like to think that my call helped push her out of a state of paralyzed shock. She still saw no hope for the future, but in a way that may have _liberated_ her from any lingering concern for asari internal politics. At the final hour, she realized that nothing remained for our people to do, except commit ourselves absolutely to the defense of the galaxy. If none of us survived the battle, so be it; that might be necessary for our atonement.

Thus as soon as we finished our conversation, she contacted Admiral Hackett and signed on to the turian-human-krogan alliance, on behalf of all surviving asari forces, absolutely and without reservation. When the time came to fight the final battle, the Asari Republics would commit every available soldier and ship.

It was very nearly her last official act. I never had the chance to speak to her again. As history records, she failed to escape from the fall of the Citadel three days later.

On that same day, the Salarian Union finally entered the war.

The salarians had stayed aloof ever since the genophage cure. _Dalatrass_ Linron adamantly opposed any aid to the allied powers, and for weeks none of her colleagues saw fit to risk overriding her. The Reapers appeared to encourage this decision, leaving their worlds alone, making no attempt to harvest them in large numbers. All of us knew, even Councilor Valern knew, that this could be nothing but a temporary reprieve. Yet Linron seemed determined to make us pay for breaking the old asari-salarian-turian alliance.

Then, about noon on the sixteenth of June, Linron suddenly died in the heart of her palace on Sur’Kesh. No one could determine the cause, although the timing certainly seemed suspicious. I can attest that the Shadow Broker had nothing to do with it, although rumors of my involvement lingered for years afterward.

A succession struggle immediately broke out among Linron’s female relatives. Chaos in their bloodline freed several other _dalatrass_ from their former political obligations. Within hours, a faction sprang into being that seemed willing to support the alliance against the Reapers.

The Salarian Union as a whole couldn’t reverse course at once. Salarians think and move quickly, but there are so _many_ of them, their factional relations are so complex, that they rarely act as a coherent unit. Still, a number of salarian establishments immediately began coordination with the allied powers. Foremost among these came the Special Tasks Group, which threw itself into the war with astonishing speed the moment Linron vanished from the stage. Many salarians later fought in the Battle of Earth.

I never did discover the true sequence of events on Sur’Kesh. I still find it very interesting that Major Kirrahe returned to Sur’Kesh from the field, suddenly and without apparent cause, only hours before _dalatrass_ Linron met her mysterious fate.

Against those diplomatic victories, we had to set a major defeat.

The allies had held the Reapers at bay on Palaven for over a month. Turian and krogan forces had destroyed _dozens_ of Reaper platforms, including a few _Sovereign_ -class capital ships. They had killed millions of Reaper soldiers, and had also helped millions of turian non-combatants to evacuate. Daily reports from Palaven had worked wonders for the morale of those fighting the Reapers elsewhere.

At one point, even _Javik_ voiced sincere admiration for the soldiers fighting on Palaven. I made quite sure Diana Allers heard and recorded _that_ for the media.

Unfortunately, the “miracle at Palaven” came at a horrible cost: almost two billion turians, tens of millions of krogan warriors, about a million humans, and naval tonnage almost beyond reckoning. The Turian Hierarchy had begun the war with the strongest military establishment in the galaxy, but by the middle of June it had fallen to a fraction of its original strength. Late that afternoon, with advice from Garrus and Admiral Hackett, Primarch Victus came to the most difficult decision of the war. He issued orders for the turian navy to withdraw from Palaven, hoping to preserve a “fleet in being” for the final offensive against the Reapers.

The turian and krogan forces left behind on Palaven kept fighting. We knew they would continue to hold the Reapers at bay as long as they could. We also knew that without support from space, they could not possibly survive for long.

Everyone aboard _Normandy_ , everyone I communicated with out in the galaxy on that terrible day, all of us knew the war had reached a turning point.

Within a few days – possibly no more than a week – either we would win, or we would see the beginning of our long, inevitable descent into extinction.

* * *

Shepard returned to _Normandy_ late in the ship’s afternoon. I evaded Dr. Chakwas and went down to the staging bay, Samantha and Nerylla in tow, to greet him on his return. He had made a terse call up to the ship, so I knew he had won a victory, but none of the landing party looked happy about it. Shepard, Ashley, James, Garrus, Tali, Vara, and Tania all emerged from the shuttle, battered, wounded, and grim.

With them came Miranda Lawson. Also a younger woman I didn’t recognize, but who resembled Miranda closely. I could guess her identity at once.

Miranda had been injured: a straight cut across her cheek just under one eye, and another under her ribs on the left side. Both wounds looked bloody, but not life-threatening. I thought I could guess their origin, and felt a moment of sympathetic pain in my chest. The younger woman seemed unhurt, but I could see deep shadows in her eyes.

I hurried up to Shepard, gave him a quick embrace, and then turned to Miranda. “I’m glad to see you. We’ve been worried about you for weeks. When Shepard told us he had picked you up . . .”

Miranda nodded, looking tired, dispirited, and about as far from _perfect_ as I had ever seen her. “At least it’s all over. Liara, this is my sister, Oriana.”

I smiled and took the young woman’s hand. “I’m pleased to meet you at last. Miranda has spoken of you often.”

Just a shimmer of interest, in those haunted eyes. “Thanks. I’ve wanted to meet you too, Dr. T’Soni. Although I guess this is a bad time to ask about an internship.”

I glanced at Miranda with wide eyes. “Is she serious?”

“I’m afraid so. Ever since she lived on Illium. More so now that she knows you’re the Shadow Broker.”

Shepard loomed up beside us. “Miranda, ordinarily I would offer to drop you off at the Citadel, but given what we learned down on Horizon, I don’t think we’re headed there next.”

The former Cerberus operative nodded in agreement. “I understand, Shepard. Things are coming to a head, aren’t they?”

“Yes, I think they are.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” I told them. “Galactic politics have been moving so fast today, I can barely keep up.”

“Then we need to confer.” Shepard turned to Samantha. “Traynor, would you take Oriana in hand, and find quarters for her and her sister?”

“Straight away, sir.”

Soon Samantha was on her way to the lifts and the crew deck, Oriana in tow, both of them talking at a frantic pace. I caught Miranda watching after them with a bemused expression.

“Don’t worry,” I told her. “Samantha is young, fiercely intelligent, and a technical expert in several disciplines. Your sister will get along with her very well.”

“All right. Shepard, I’m at your disposal. What’s on the agenda?”

“We call Admiral Hackett. For the next mission, I want the entire Alliance fleet in my back pocket.”

* * *

_“Shepard. Please tell me you have good news.”_

I watched the hologram of Admiral Hackett closely. The past few days had not been kind to him, although only a close observer would have seen the difference: shoulders not quite as firmly braced, face looking just a little craggier than usual, eyes sunk in their sockets with fatigue.

“I wouldn’t call it good, Admiral, but it’s a hell of a lot better than yesterday.”

_“Go on.”_

“Sir, I took a team down to Sanctuary. We discovered the place nearly deserted, no sign of any of the refugees who have poured into the place over the past few weeks. We found both Cerberus and Reaper forces there, Cerberus was in the process of evacuation, while the Reapers attacked them.”

_“That’s new. Any idea why?”_

“Yes, sir.” Shepard looked more forbidding than usual. “We discovered that Sanctuary is a sham. An enormous Cerberus scientific facility, looking for a way to _take control of Reaper troops_. Using millions of refugees as raw materials for industrial-scale experimentation.”

Hackett’s eyes widened in surprise.

“The place was a concentration camp.” Shepard leaned on the console rail, looking as if he needed the support to continue standing erect. “It had a very pretty façade, but they killed enough people there to put Auschwitz in the shade. _Millions._ Humans of military age got implanted with Reaper tech and put in the Illusive Man’s army. Other adult humans got turned into husks, for experiments in assimilation and control. Any humans who weren’t useful for either of those tasks – the children in particular – they just _killed_. Same for every single one of the non-humans. If anyone survived to escape, we didn’t see any evidence of it.”

Steven Hackett was a very hard man. He had seen and done many difficult things in his military career. He cultivated a great deal of self-discipline, always sharp and alert, never letting his passions gain control of him. In over a century of acquaintance with him, I believe that was the only moment I ever saw him lose that self-control.

None of us spoke for a long moment, watching as the admiral removed his cap, ran a trembling hand through his silver hair, and then _hurled_ the headgear violently out of the hologram’s focus.

 _“God damn them to the pits of hell,”_ he said, very quietly.

Then his head rose, his hands clasped behind his back, and the man took refuge behind the admiral once more.

_“Continue.”_

I stepped forward slightly. “Admiral, I think what our team discovered on Horizon explains a great deal. Consider the scope of their scientific work over the past year: the experiments on Paul Grayson; the salvage of Collector technology from the galactic core; the research conducted at their lab on Sanctum; the research conducted by Brynn Cole and her colleagues before their defection. Now we see all of it culminating in Henry Lawson’s work at Sanctuary, developing a system for the complete control of human minds. In short, _indoctrination,_ but for the Illusive Man’s purposes rather than those of the Reapers.

“Cerberus clearly made some progress along these lines even _before_ the Reapers attacked Earth. I suspect they conscripted their first military force among humans living on Omega. We encountered some of those soldiers on Mars. Sanctuary is the most likely source for the large army they deployed during their April offensive. It also explains how Cerberus has continued to produce large numbers of troops, even after repeated defeats in the field.”

 _“That does make sense,”_ the admiral agreed. _“Do you believe their assembly line has been cut off, now that Sanctuary is out of operation?”_

“The data don’t force such a conclusion, but I suspect the loss of such a large facility must cause severe disruption to their logistics. Especially now that they no longer hold Omega.”

“Admiral, all of this is very consistent with what I know of the Illusive Man’s psychology,” said Miranda quietly. “He is obsessed with _control_. He wants to save the galaxy, but only on _his_ terms. That means humanity dominant over all others, with him firmly in charge of humanity.”

Hackett stared at Miranda for a long moment. _“Ms. Lawson, how involved is your father in all of this?”_

“He was _fully_ involved, Admiral. The architect of Sanctuary. The chief scientist as well. Ultimately responsible for every bloody thing done there.”

The admiral’s eyebrows lowered a trifle, giving him the look of an intent predatory avian. _“I notice the past tense. Where is your father now?”_

“Dead.” Miranda’s chin rose, and she gave Hackett a defiant stare. “By my own hand.”

Hackett nodded firmly. _“Good.”_

“Sir, I’ll have an after-action report for you within two hours, and Liara has promised an intel assessment as well,” said Shepard. “The executive summary is that with Miranda’s help, we recovered and analyzed message headers from her father’s communications to the Illusive Man. We also picked up Kai Leng’s trail as he headed back into the relay network. It all fits together. I am confident that we now have the location of Cerberus headquarters.”

Slowly, an ice-cold smile began to spread across Admiral Hackett’s face.

We got to work, planning a battle.

* * *

It was late in the evening before I noticed that Vara had gone missing.

I had seen her emerge from the shuttle after the Horizon mission, but then I had been busy for hours. Only when I took a late meal with Shepard and Nerylla did I have time to take stock. No one had seen her since she left the med-bay after the mission.

I thought hard for a moment, and then took the lift down to the engineering deck. I knew _one_ place on the ship that almost no one ever visited, at least not since Jack had moved out months before.

Sure enough, I found a small bundle of black leather with light blue accents, and the sound of quiet weeping. Vara sat on Jack’s old cot, curled into a tight ball in the far corner, arms around her knees, face hidden from the world.

I crossed the deck, making as little sound as I could, and eased myself down on the cot beside her.

The sudden sense of my presence caused her head to jerk upward, a wild silver-eyed stare meeting my gaze. At once she began to uncoil, getting ready to stand at attention. _“Despoina . . .”_

I reached out and caught her hand, held it tightly. “None of that, Vara. There’s no one here to see. You don’t have to be my acolyte right now.”

For an instant she remained rigid, and then she nodded and relaxed once more, sitting beside me and permitting me to hold her hand. “I’m sorry, _despoina_. Liara.”

“Don’t be.” I leaned my back against the wall, staring up into the dimness. “Difficult day?”

She took a deep breath, let it out as a great shaky sigh. “You have _no idea_. Goddess!”

I did my best not to flinch, but that apparently wasn’t good enough.

Vara blinked at me. “Hmm. I’m sorry again, Liara. Force of habit.”

“You never were an initiate of the Athame cult, were you?”

“No. Never even visited the Temple, back when I still lived in Armali. My lineage has been _siari_ for over a thousand years.”

I shook my head and gave her a rueful smile. “No reason for that matter to strike you as hard as it did me, then. Never mind. Tell me about today.”

“It was . . . terrible. At first we only had a mystery. _Where did all the refugees go? Why is Cerberus here, and why are the Reapers apparently attacking them?_ Then we began to see the truth, one piece at a time.”

“Mass murder.”

“Yes, but not just that. Cerberus was so _efficient_ about it. As if they ran a big, elaborate industrial plant, every process worked out to the last detail, everyone filing reports and getting letters of praise for getting the job done on time. Probably drinking coffee and gossiping with their colleagues the whole time. While they _processed_ millions of people.”

“Yes.”

“They had a process for removing the clothing from the dead. Light textiles in one pile, heavy in another. A third pile solely for their footgear. Each pile went into different nanotech processes for reclamation. They must have had to evacuate in a panic when the Reapers arrived. We found the last batch, already sorted out but not yet fed into the recyclers. A pile of shoes . . . higher than my head, tens of thousands of shoes . . . and suddenly I couldn’t help but think of all the _people_ who had worn those shoes, all of them dead, all of them _murdered . . ._ ”

She broke down again. I put my arms around her and held on tight.

“I know,” I murmured once she became quiet again. “I’ve studied human history closely over the last few years. On the whole, they are decent and honorable people. Yet there is a hole in their minds, some flaw that makes things like Sanctuary possible for them. I could list over a dozen incidents like this one, going back three hundred years or more.”

“I don’t think that’s the point,” she whispered. “Is there a single race in the galaxy that doesn’t have _some_ terrible crime on its conscience?”

“I suppose not. A few days ago, I might have been tempted to say we asari weren’t capable of such terrible deeds, but now?” I sighed. “We’ve clearly found our own ways to betray all life.”

“Yes.” She was silent for a long moment, still leaning into my embrace, wiping the tears from her face. “Maybe the Reapers are right. Maybe, before we can grow onto the galactic stage and find a way to commit truly _cosmic_ crimes . . . maybe being _harvested_ is exactly what we deserve.”

“No.” I didn’t even have to think about it. “Absolutely not.”

She blinked at me. “All right. But _why not?_ I’m not seeing it right now. All I can see is that pile of shoes.”

I thought about it for a moment, and then had to smile. “Because organic life doesn’t just produce monsters. Most of the time it produces basically decent people who don’t have much power, either for great good or for great evil. Once in a while it produces people like Shepard.”

To my chagrin, she didn’t smile. She turned her face away, clenching her jaw in the grip of some strong emotion. I couldn’t tell if it was anger or shame.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her.

“He saved my life today.”

I waited.

“It was after we saw those piles of clothing, the pile of shoes. I don’t know. I tried not to let it affect me. Tried to _use_ my anger. I thought it was working. Then one of those _banshees_ ambushed us.”

I shuddered slightly. She must have felt it.

“You have _that_ right,” she went on. “Usually those things are so slow. They stand there and scream, and throw balls of biotic force at you, and you can dodge those. Plenty of time to pound on them with gunfire and biotics, wear them down from a distance. Not this one. The creature came out of nowhere, flash-charged in on us, _boom-boom-boom,_ and then it was _right there_ , right in the middle of our formation. I tried to turn my weapon on it, but I might have been distracted, or it moved too quickly. It hit me with some kind of neural charge, blasted my reflexes and my mind into so much shattered glass. Then it picked me up.”

I bit my lip.

“I was dead. I knew I was dead. It must have been like when that Cerberus assassin stabbed you yesterday. It almost seemed to _cherish_ me, looking into my eyes, holding me gently. But I knew I was about to feel its talons rammed through my gut, and that would be the end.

“Shepard _charged_ it.”

My eyes went wide. My bondmate had _deliberately_ flash-charged into a banshee’s reach?

“He was careful. Came in on the opposite side of the thing. The concussion still nearly knocked me out. Somehow it kept its hold on me, but it turned toward Shepard. That _scream_ again, right by my head. Then he set off a nova-blast. _That_ made it drop me.

“Next thing I knew, the rest of the squad gave the monster everything they had. It felt like I huddled in the eye of a hurricane. It died still standing above me. Its ashes settled all over me.

“Then Shepard stood there. Bending down. Offering me his hand to pull me to my feet. Asking if I was all right.”

“There he is again,” I murmured. “The tower of strength and courage.”

“Yes. Somehow I got through the rest of the mission. I ran, fought, listened to orders, contributed ideas. I survived.” She shuddered. “But it felt as if the world had withdrawn behind a panel of glass. I could see it, I could react to it, but it didn’t seem _real_ anymore. I’m still not sure if any of it feels real.”

I nodded, recognizing what she was telling me. Something had happened to Vara down on Horizon: some limit had been passed, some essential component of her mind had been wounded.

I tightened my embrace. “Vara, listen to me. This is real. This quiet place, my voice, my arms around you, these are all real things. Take strength from them.”

She sat motionless in my embrace.

“We need you, Vara. I need you.”

“No. You don’t,” she said miserably.

I drew back a little, enough to look down and stare at her face. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my right hand, you have been ever since Illium.”

“That was before Shepard came back.”

Then I saw it. Not just terror at the apparent end of all things staring us in the face, not just horror at what Cerberus or the asari people had done. Nothing so simple as envy or jealousy.

Shame. A sense of inadequacy, of failure.

“Vara . . .”

“No, Liara. It’s time I faced the truth. I was so proud of being your first acolyte, of standing with you through everything.” Silence for a moment. “I was a fool.”

“Why? Because you had a perfectly natural reaction to discovering an atrocity?”

“No.”

“Because you were in a terrible fight and almost got killed?”

“No!”

“Then what is it?” I demanded.

“Because I can’t be to you what Shepard already is!”

I held her gaze, cobalt blue against smoky silver, and said nothing.

“It’s not jealousy. It’s _not_. I don’t begrudge the love you share with him. I just . . . I _envy_ him.” She looked away, suddenly unable to meet my gaze. “I wish I could be like him. I know why you love him. How could you not? How could you not love such strength, courage, intelligence, _areté?_ I think I’m half in love with him myself.”

I snorted. “That seems to happen around him. He attracts admiration and devotion like few people I’ve ever seen.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to measure up.” She shook her head, still staring at the floor. “Goddess, I was so unfair to him yesterday.”

“Hmm. Yes, you were. I will grant that taking such a small team down to Thessia was a mistake. But then, I never claimed Shepard was _perfect_. He makes mistakes, as much as any of us.”

“You were still right to be angry at me. Watching him today . . .”

I smiled ruefully. “He didn’t let Sanctuary stop him, did he?”

“No.”

“He put himself at risk for the sake of the mission, for the sake of his team. He saved your life.”

“Yes.”

“Vara.” I reached over, put two fingers under her chin, pulled her face gently around to me. “Do you think I feel as if _I’m_ his equal?”

She stared at me in silence.

“I never have. Vara, that man has taught me more, has inspired me to do more, than I would have ever believed possible four years ago. I would still be an obscure little archaeologist without him. Possibly dead as well, and who knows where any of us would be now? Shepard is unique. None of us are his match, not if we live to be a thousand.”

“How do you live with that?”

“How do I live with _not_ being the most remarkable individual in the galaxy?” I said, throwing some ironic humor into my voice.

It worked. Despite herself, she snorted in amusement.

“Vara, I’ve failed him more than once. I’ve often thought myself unworthy of him. It never ceases to amaze me that he continues to love me. So I keep moving forward. I help him. I keep myself sharp and alert for him. I love him as much as I am able, and I hope that someday soon, we can all stop fighting this war. Get back to an existence in which we don’t all _have_ to be larger than life, every moment of every day.”

“That simple?”

“There is nothing _simple_ about it, but yes.”

“I’m not sure that will work for me.”

“Why not?” An idea struck me. “Vara, it’s very late and I need to get some rest. I _did_ have a sword jammed through my left lung yesterday, you will recall.”

She shuddered. “How can I forget?”

“I’m going to bed down in my office for the night. Why don’t you go _talk_ to Shepard for an hour or two?”

“Me?” Vara took a deep breath. “No. No, I couldn’t.”

“Why not? I know you’ve never taken the chance to just sit down and converse with him. Go do that. Ask _him_ how he gets through days like this. I assure you, he’s had far worse experiences than Sanctuary. Ask him about Elysium during the Skyllian Blitz. Ask him about the Battle of Bahak. Get to know him. Let him teach you some of what he has taught me.”

“After what I said to him yesterday?”

“I think you’ll find he has already forgiven you for that. He understands how you feel.” I leaned forward, gave her a chaste kiss on one cheek. “Go. Let him be your friend. There may not be much time left for that.”

She struggled with her feelings for a minute, but then she nodded in agreement. “All right. If you think it will help.”

It did. The next day, while _Normandy_ began the long journey to Anadius, she seemed much better. More like the Vara T’Rathis I had come to know, even if a shadow hovered behind the confidence in her face, visible only in her most unguarded moments.

With Shepard at the helm, _Normandy_ flew toward its rendezvous with the Alliance fleet, and what we hoped would be our final reckoning with Cerberus.


	51. Retribution

**_19 June 2186, Anadius System Space_ **

The Alliance’s Fifth Fleet dropped into normal geometry, a few thousand kilometers from the enormous station where Cerberus laired. Fighters deployed at once and began to engage Cerberus forces. Cruisers and capital ships sought out their counterparts and began to lay down heavy fire.

Admiral Hackett intended to destroy Cerberus as a military force. Our specific mission was different, a matter of infiltration. So for once, despite Shepard’s natural inclinations, _Normandy_ waited in the back of the Alliance formation, and did not hurl herself at once into the hottest part of the engagement.

Seven of us waited in the shuttle, checking our weapons and gear for the last time. Shepard led us as usual, with Ashley and Javik as his heavy fire-team. EDI’s platform and Miranda wore light combat gear, coming along to help break Cerberus security protocols and defenses. Vara and I rounded out the squad. As soon as we won a foothold on Cronos Station, the second shuttle would come in with James, the rest of the Marines, and my other two acolytes, tasked to hold the beachhead and secure our line of escape.

Shepard had three objectives, ranked in a very specific order.

Recover the Prothean data, including anything it could tell us about the Catalyst.

Capture the Illusive Man.

 _Kill Kai Leng_.

All of us agreed in full to the objective set. Especially the third item, lowest on the priority list though it might be.

 _“Fifth Fleet’s cut through their line,”_ came Joker’s voice from the bridge. _“Cerberus is falling back to regroup. Now’s as good a time as any.”_

“Roger that,” said Shepard. “Steve, take us in.”

The shuttle hurled itself away from _Normandy_ , out into the largest space battle I had yet seen. In the harsh light of Anadius, hundreds of ships moved around us, smaller with greater distance, out to where the eye could no longer pick them out. Fighters soared and dove, strafing the enemy, dog-fighting with their opposite numbers. Large ships hammered at their targets with cannon fire. An occasional eye-searing explosion appeared, marking the grave of a starship as its mass-effect core breached.

Up ahead, I could see our destination. A tall, narrow construction hung in deep space, partially silhouetted against the limb of Anadius. It grew with astonishing speed, as Cortez dashed across open space. In the last moments, I glimpsed the fighter bay Shepard had picked out as our target.

Cortez swooped down like a predatory avian on its prey. A flash of blue light, and we were _through,_ the shuttle slamming down on its belly and sliding into the pressurized part of the bay.

The hatch slammed open, and we sprang out into a maelstrom of gunfire.

It reminded me of Menae, our landing in the middle of an army of husks, except that the husks hadn’t carried rifles or fired back.

For the first time in my life, I really _appreciated_ what little military training I had. Hours practicing close-quarters combat, weapons fire, biotics, small-unit tactics. Imprinting the patterns on your subconscious mind, your nerves and muscles, so when the day comes that you don’t have time to think, your body will know what to do anyway.

Crouch behind cover. Emerge, trusting that Vara is at your side, covering your left. A glimpse of white-and-gold armor to the right, _singularity_ on the way, lay down gunfire to discourage the enemy, _warp_ to detonate the singularity, _boom,_ run forward to new cover. That sudden _pull_ at your mind, telling you Shepard has just flash-charged into the middle of an enemy fire-team somewhere off to the left. Don’t fear for him. Don’t fear for yourself. No time for any of that. Fire, control gesture to hurl telekinetic force, run, fire, take cover when it gets a little too hot, but only to pop up once more the instant your barriers have recovered.

The noise. The constant, terrible, deafening _noise_.

I tried not to think about the fact that I had _less_ formal combat training than anyone else on our team. Well, aside from EDI, but being a sentient supercomputer had to count for _something_.

 _“Atlas, ten o’clock,”_ came Shepard’s voice over our comm, maddeningly calm.

I peeked out and saw the giant mech, emerging from behind a cloud of dense smoke. I also saw something else, something that made my heart skip a beat

“Phantom, under cover, two o’clock,” I called in. Then I blinked, and she had vanished.

_“Understood. You and Vara get the ninja, the rest of us will handle the Atlas.”_

_Easier said than done, given that I can’t see her now._

Vara crouched beside me, anxiously scanning the field, while a thunderous crescendo of weapons fire and biotics enveloped the mech.

_She was over by that console. How fast can a Phantom move?_

_Guess fast. That way if you’re surprised, you’re more likely to survive._

My head snapped to the right. I saw just a flicker of movement, a distortion in the air.

My biotics surged from nothing to maximum capacity in about a second. I produced, not a finely controlled warp, but a _blast_ of raw telekinetic force that blinded me for a moment and sent debris flying in a great cone.

We heard an oddly mechanical screech. The assassin’s tactical cloak went down for a moment, and she became visible.

Then Vara had her rifle on target, scything the Phantom down with a barrage. I followed suit with my Shuriken, then a more conventional _warp_ that killed the assassin at last.

“What was _that, despoina?”_

I shook my head. “I’m not quite sure. Maybe I’m learning techniques from Shepard.”

She snorted in amusement. Then she bent down, examining the dead Phantom. When she rose again, she had the assassin’s sword, placing it on an attachment point on her own back.

“What?” she demanded when she saw my quizzical stare. “Why should Cerberus have all the fun of bringing back swordsmanship?”

I shrugged and gave her a tolerant smile.

 _BOOM_. The Atlas mech went up in fire and smoke.

We had the initiative from that point. Shepard continued to advance up the center, and since Vara and I had already moved to the right, we decided to carry out a two-asari flanking movement. Cerberus troopers facing the bulk of our squad found it very disconcerting when we appeared in their rear.

 _“Eulalalia!”_ shouted Vara, gracefully flinging one trooper aside with a biotic throw while she snapped another’s neck with a flying high-kick.

I followed, fighting in grim silence.

_At least she seems to have gotten over her breakdown after Sanctuary._

_Hopefully she won’t realize that these Cerberus soldiers probably began as victims of that place._

Before long I realized that the fighter bay had almost fallen silent. Vara and I reached Shepard in the middle of the empty space, all of us looking around for more foes and finding none.

“That was just a little too easy,” observed Ashley.

“We are still locked in this chamber,” said Javik. “Vermin in a trap. Not yet to be taken seriously.”

“Yeah,” agreed Shepard. “EDI, what is Cerberus up to?”

“One moment. I have access to station communications.” The mech stood absolutely still for a moment, then turned to him with alarm. “Commander, they have initiated something called _Achilles Protocol_. They intend to vent this hangar bay to space.”

I looked around. Most of us were _not_ in pressure-sealed armor.

“Can you stop it?”

“I need an active console,” said EDI. “Perhaps on the upper level?”

Shepard glanced around, spotted a ladder nearby. “This way.”

We climbed, Shepard in the lead, EDI just behind, the rest of us following as best we could. By the time I reached the top, EDI had already found a console, keying into Cerberus command systems. “Hangar vent systems disabled,” she reported.

“Can you open the hangar?”

“No.” EDI worked for another moment, and then glanced at Shepard. “However, I _can_ access the fighter launch controls.”

Shepard made a truly _vicious_ grin. I didn’t understand at first, but then I opened my mind to his for a moment, catching his surface thoughts.

My eyes went wide with surprise.

“Do it,” he ordered, and EDI complied.

Down below us, a single fighter craft rose on its elevator, and then locked into place, ready for launch.

“Commander, Cerberus is aware that I am in control of hangar systems. Reinforcements are inbound.”

“Good,” said Javik, bringing his rifle to the ready. “Let them come.”

This time the fight seemed less desperate, more _orderly,_ if that word can be applied to anything in warfare. Cerberus forces came at us one squad at a time, down the narrow balcony around the outside of the hanger bay, the close quarters constraining their approach. Shepard assigned us numbers and we advanced by odds-and-evens, each leap forward presaged by a hail of grenades and biotic explosions. A small phalanx of shield-carrying Guardians slowed us down for a few moments, but Shepard, Vara, and I could all telekinetically pry their shields out of their grasp. Without those, they became easy meat for our gunfire.

A few moments, and we reached another useful console. EDI tapped at the controls. I heard a whine of machinery, and saw the fighter craft down on the hangar floor turn full about, pointing itself at the locked bay doors.

“Perfect,” said Shepard with satisfaction. “Let’s get back down there.”

We saw no more resistance as we climbed back down to the hangar floor. All of us took cover as EDI reached a final console.

“Launching fighter,” she announced.

With a roar, the fighter’s engines came up to full power, plasma spilling out toward the hangar opening behind us. Then the clamps let go, and the fighter hurled itself forward. The hangar bay doors put up almost no resistance, folding up like so much tinfoil. The fighter vanished, far inside the guts of the station, leaving behind a trail of wreckage and smashed compartments.

“Impressive,” I murmured.

“The central lab facility is located somewhere behind this hangar,” said EDI. “I suggest we follow the fighter’s path. Organized resistance is less likely.”

“Noted,” said Shepard. “Let’s move.”

We found a few Cerberus troops behind the hangar doors, stunned, some of them injured. They tried to fight us anyway. It didn’t work out for them.

Shepard took one look at the wreckage the fighter had left behind, and vetoed the thought of moving directly in its path. Too many fires and electrical discharges, too many razor-sharp metal edges. We would have taken hours to thread our way through the maze. Instead, we found a corridor that ran parallel to the fighter’s path, apparently leading toward the central labs. EDI got to work on the door lock.

_“Incursion team, this is Hackett. Status.”_

Shepard answered. “Admiral, we are on track. We’ve secured the hangar bay and are preparing to enter the main body of the station. No serious casualties thus far.”

_“Normally I wouldn’t want to jog your elbow, but I’ve just received a rather surprising piece of news, and I want your take on it. Is Dr. T’Soni with you?”_

I activated my comm. “Yes, Admiral, I’m here.”

“ _Good. I won’t waste words. The Citadel is gone.”_

I blinked, stared at Shepard for a moment. He wore the same bewildered expression I’m sure I did.

“Admiral, come again?”

_“I repeat, the Citadel is gone. Communications from there went silent about twenty minutes ago. Primarch Victus has routed a patrol through Widow space. They’ve just reported the entire station missing. No debris, no survival pods in space, no sign of a fight. Just ten mass relays hanging in a ring in space, and nothing at all at the center.”_

“Were there no patrol squadrons on duty?” I asked.

_“Apparently not. The last ships got called away to respond to a Reaper surge out of Parnitha system, about two hours ago. We haven’t heard from them. I suspect we have to assume the worst.”_

“Sounds as if the Reapers finally decided to attack the Citadel,” said Shepard. “I’ve been wondering why they’ve left the place alone so far.”

I shook my head, thinking hard. “That doesn’t ring true, Shepard. How could the Reapers get to the Citadel without being seen as they moved through the mass relay network? Even if they managed that, the turians would have found some sign of a battle. Not even the Reapers could simply _destroy_ the Citadel, so quickly and without leaving a single trace.”

“They could have _moved_ it,” said Javik.

 _“Is that even possible?”_ asked Hackett.

“I cannot be certain. Not even our Unity ever fully understood the Citadel and all of its systems. One thing I do know. During our cycle, we also used the Citadel as a center for galactic government. At that time, it did _not_ orbit that planetless white star you call Widow.”

All of us, except EDI, turned to stare at the Prothean.

When I could find my voice, I demanded, “Javik, _why did you never mention this to me?”_

 _“Rrrh._ You did not ask, and I did not think it important until now. None of _us_ can move the Citadel. If the Reapers move it once again, after this cycle is over and all of us are dead, what does that matter?”

“There’s a hole in your logic, Javik, big enough to drive a Mako through.” Shepard shook his head. “Never mind. Where _was_ the Citadel during your cycle?”

“Perhaps halfway around the galaxy, in the cluster you call the Pangaea Expanse.”

“Near Ilos!” I nodded in excitement. “That would make sense.”

“I don’t follow,” said Shepard.

“Don’t you think it’s interesting that in our cycle, the Citadel is so centrally located for many of the species making up our civilization? Thessia, Sur’Kesh, Palaven, Tuchanka, even Dekuuna, all on the same side of the galaxy and no more than one jump away through the relay network.”

“Sure,” Ashley broke in, a thoughtful expression on her face as she visualized a map. “If you go out two jumps, you get Irune, Kahje, Rakhana, and you’re almost to Earth and Khar’Shan too. That’s just about everyone’s homeworld, except for the quarians and the vorcha.”

“Liara, I’m guessing you don’t think that’s a coincidence,” said Shepard.

“Well, the worlds on which new civilizations appear have to be located _somewhere_. It’s probably a coincidence that in our cycle, so many of them are clustered on this side of the galaxy. But if the Reapers could make an educated guess as to which primitive species were likely to emerge next onto the galactic stage . . .”

“They could move the Citadel to improve their chances of catching the new cycle early.” Shepard nodded. “So why didn’t they put it close to the Prothean homeworld in the last cycle?”

“Perhaps they didn’t see any need to move it,” I suggested. “If the Citadel was already in the Pangaea Expanse two cycles ago, then the _inusannon_ would have found it almost as soon as they emerged from their homeworld on Ilos. We’ve never visited the Prothean homeworld, but Javik tells me it’s only a few thousand light-years away from Ilos, in a cluster we have yet to open and map.”

“One jump away,” Javik muttered. “Close enough for us to find it early in our history. Use it. Fall into its trap.”

Hackett broke in: _“All of this is fascinating, but it doesn’t tell us what just happened to the Citadel today.”_

“I’m also not sure I buy the idea that the Reapers are behind this,” said Shepard. “They can’t control the Citadel’s systems remotely anymore, remember? Even if they dropped out of the mass relays to attack the station, C-Sec would have time to close the ward arms and put up one hell of a fight.”

I shook my head slightly. “Assuming C-Sec wasn’t compromised in advance, as when Cerberus mounted their coup attempt.”

Shepard gave me a sharp glance, but I could see he took the point.

“Commander, I have unlocked this door and secured our path into the station,” said EDI. “I would suggest tabling this discussion for the moment.”

“Agreed. Admiral, we need to get moving. Cerberus isn’t going to be off-guard for long.”

_“Understood. I’ll see if I can find out more. Good luck.”_

We moved into the depths of the station.

We encountered surprisingly little resistance as we advanced, small but fierce firefights with Cerberus squads holding choke-points. They brought up a number of engineers, setting up barriers and turrets in our path, forcing us to move slowly and carefully. Shepard’s tactical sense came to the fore here, as he moved us like pieces on a chessboard: combat specialists pinning down the foe in front, technical specialists moving up on the flanks to take down barriers and turrets, biotic specialists deployed to bring down the hammer of wrath.

As we advanced, we kept coming across offices or labs with active consoles, windows into the vast archives of Cronos Station. With Miranda’s help, I downloaded petabytes of data: instrument readings, communications logs, documents, audio and video recordings of meetings. Data on the Lazarus Project, the recruitment of Shepard’s crew during the war against the Collectors, the construction of EDI and later the Eva mech, Sanctuary, plans for the April offensive, the attempted coup, the intervention on Thessia . . .

“Does it concern you,” I asked Miranda after a time, “that we’re documenting a great deal of _your own_ work with Cerberus?”

“Not really,” she said. “I had nothing to do with atrocities or war crimes. For the rest of it, I already have amnesty, thanks to Shepard. If we all manage to survive the Reapers, this will help us _destroy_ whatever’s left of Cerberus.”

I glanced at her face and saw a mask of fierce determination. I think even at that moment, I knew how Miranda Lawson would be spending her next years, perhaps even the rest of her life. What attachment she still held to some Cerberus ideals, I could not guess. For the organization itself and what it had become, she held nothing but withering contempt.

We moved on, past the last squad of defenders, into a part of the station that seemed empty.

_“Incursion team, are you still with us? We’re limiting fire as best we can.”_

“Admiral, we’re in deep, and the Prothean data will be in the safest part of the station,” Shepard answered. “Don’t hold back.”

_“This isn’t Elysium, Shepard. I don’t need a hero, I need you and your team back with us when this is all over.”_

“We’ll be fine, Admiral. Just take Cerberus down, once and for all. _Please.”_ Suddenly Shepard’s voice surged with emotion.

I glanced at him with some concern, my mind reaching out to brush against his, offering strength and love. He reached out and laid a hand on my shoulder, thanking me.

 _“Understood, Commander,”_ said Hackett. _“All ships, you are free to fire.”_

Before long we could feel and hear the Alliance bombardment, dull booms and crashes through the massive body of the station, an occasional shock, never quite enough to make us stumble. Shepard’s assessment seemed correct. At least for the moment, we faced no real danger from our own side.

EDI directed us along a shattered hallway, between fires burning on either side, then to the right and a drop of about three meters. One by one, we all made the jump.

I stopped, looked around me with terrified awe. We had reached the central core of the station.

I saw a vast open space, a rough cylinder standing on end, about forty meters in diameter but over two hundred meters long. Catwalks and scaffolding provided a path forward, leading up toward the central labs and the Illusive Man’s inner sanctum.

At first I couldn’t figure out what hung in the middle of that open space. Some kind of machinery? A random assemblage of metal parts? An enormous experimental apparatus? Then I looked up and saw the shattered remnants of a _face_. It looked almost asari, or human, except for the presence of two “eyes” in its left socket. Suddenly my eye could see, my mind make sense of, the shapes and their arrangement. Head, torso, two great arms stretching out to either side.

“Is that . . .”

“Yes,” said EDI. “This appears to be the proto-Reaper Shepard destroyed at the galactic core.”

“What’s left of it,” said Shepard. “I’m surprised Cerberus managed to recover even this much from the Collector base.”

“Astonishing.” I stared upward at the colossal wreck. “I can’t believe you _fought_ that. On foot, no less.”

“I can hardly believe it myself, and I was _there,”_ Miranda said.

I nodded, recalling the experience second-hand from Shepard’s memories. How he, Miranda, and Samara had faced the thing and defeated it, barely escaping from its death throes.

“A well-placed Cain shot certainly helped,” said Shepard.

“Those poor colonists,” I murmured, remembering how the Collectors had built the machine we now saw in wreckage. The _raw materials_ they had used.

“The Illusive Man convinced me to work with him to save the colonies. But he never really cared, did he?”

“I’m not so sure,” said Miranda. “Back then he hadn’t gone so far. He certainly saw himself as humanity’s leader and savior, but I think he still valued individual human lives.”

Ashley shrugged. “Maybe. Of course, maybe once you start thinking you know better than anyone else what needs to be done, no need to let little things like freedom or sentient rights get in the way of your plans, then sooner or later you get Sanctuary.”

“Or maybe it’s just the habit of working in secret,” I suggested quietly. “Making your decisions without having to consult with the people whose lives you change along the way.”

Vara glanced at me sharply.

Shepard shook his head. “You’re not him, Liara. You could never be.”

“If it could have saved Thessia?” I sighed. “I don’t know.”

 _“I_ know.” He looked up through the dead Reaper, pointed to a spot several levels above us. “I think that’s the access leading to the core complex. Come on. Maybe if we hurry, we can take down the Illusive Man himself.”


	52. Revelation

**_19 June 2186, Cronos Station_ **

I have seen combat in hundreds of places in my life. A bitter fight in the dark wreckage of a mining outpost, a monstrously large moon hovering overhead. A vicious close-quarters battle on a sunless rogue planet. A desperate flight through a burning forest. A sudden ambush at night, among million-year-old ruins. A full-on assault through horribly deadly jungle, against fortified positions. So many places we sentient beings have chosen to shed one another’s blood, end one another’s lives.

I still think the strangest battlefield I have ever seen was there, on the scaffolds and catwalks of Cronos Station, climbing through the guts of a dead Reaper.

Cerberus was almost finished. Admiral Hackett and the Fifth Fleet had pounded most of the station into wreckage. Thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of Cerberus personnel had already died. Yet this one last army did its best to prevent us from reaching the Illusive Man’s final retreat.

The battle seemed weirdly three-dimensional. We had difficulty finding any useful cover. Cerberus troopers and centurions moved out onto catwalks, not only on our level, but above and below us. Nemesis snipers lined up shots, our only warning a moment’s flash of laser light. Phantoms soared across empty space to land on our level, and then run in under their tactical cloaks to stab and slash. All of us craned our necks wildly, trying to stare in every direction at once.

All the while, the dead Reaper watched us, its vacant three-eyed stare making the back of my neck itch.

Shepard saved us, somehow keeping a map of the whole maze in his head, always knowing just where Cerberus forces would appear next. The great space echoed to the blast of his shotgun, his biotic flare, the sudden zip- _boom_ of his flash-charge. Behind him, the rest of us kept moving, firing at targets of opportunity in all directions.

We climbed, up one level, then two.

We almost lost everything when Cerberus engineers placed two turrets in front of us, pinning us down, and then a whole team of Phantoms leaped into the middle of our formation. A few seconds of chaos followed, gunfire and biotic displays going off everywhere, all of us fighting desperately to avoid getting slashed or impaled. Vara drew her own captured sword to fence with one Phantom for a moment, and proved surprisingly competent, keeping her foe at bay until Shepard could bring his Claymore to bear.

“Where did you learn that?” I asked her as we moved on.

“Twenty years of fencing lessons when I was young,” she told me. “My mother followed the ancient martial arts. She insisted on them for physical training.”

I smiled, and silently decided to put Vara in charge of training all of my acolytes in the blade. Not to mention _me_. Shepard approved of being competent with every possible weapon, and I had come to believe the same.

Finally we emerged on the top level of the scaffolding, just under the dead Reaper’s monstrous head. A final catwalk led us into laboratory space.

Miranda and I moved over to an active console, and once again we found data of interest: reports and technical data covering Cerberus research into the use of Reaper technology on organic subjects. _All_ of it, dating back to Jack Harper’s experiences on Palaven after the First Contact War.

“Oh my _God,”_ said Miranda as she scanned some of the more recent data.

“What is it?”

“Look.” She shook her head in utter disgust. “I can’t _believe_ he was so foolish.”

I watched a series of recorded discussions, involving the Illusive Man and a female scientist named _Jana_. At the end, he ordered her to implant him with Reaper nanotechnology, similar to that used on Paul Grayson.

_Begin the procedure. No anesthetic. Computer, end recording._

I shivered in horror at what he must have done to himself.

Shepard loomed up behind us as the recordings came to an end. “He did it, didn’t he? Just like Saren.”

“Probably for the same reason,” I suggested. “He was already indoctrinated without realizing it. No doubt the Reapers appealed to his ego. They whipered to his subconscious mind, telling him that out of all humanity, _he_ could accept the implants and their benefits without losing his free will.”

“It would fit his psych profile,” Miranda agreed.

“I imagine this was inevitable, once Cerberus started playing with the enemy’s toys.” Shepard rested a supportive hand on Miranda’s shoulder. “I am _damn_ glad all three of us got away from him before this started.”

Miranda gave him a haunted look. “What if the three of us breaking away from him is _why_ this started?”

“That’s probably so,” I said. “Yet it was his choice, and he made it with eyes wide open.”

“Yes.” Miranda took a deep, cleansing breath. “Still. What a waste.”

“Come on,” said Shepard gently. “If you’ve got all the data, let’s go see if he’s still here.”

* * *

The Illusive Man had vanished.

We stepped out into his office, a space Miranda recognized from the days when she remained loyal to Cerberus. The Illusive Man’s most trusted agent, here now to help bring him down.

We saw a great circular space. Windows stood almost all the way around the perimeter, opening out on swollen Anadius, the distant stars, the occasional movement and _flash_ of the battle in space. Tiles on the floor and ceiling, highly polished and reflective, gave the illusion of drifting in a starlit abyss. All seemed empty and quiet, nothing in all that space but a single chair, an array of holographic consoles and displays before it, a holoprojection stage behind.

“No sign of Glowy Eyes,” said Ashley, after she scanned the whole room.

“No sign of _anyone,”_ I said, disappointed. “He must have abandoned this place. Either that, or he’s hiding somewhere else on the station.”

“We need to locate the Prothean data,” said Shepard. He strode forward, slinging his shotgun on its attachment point on his back, moving to sit down in the single chair.

The rest of us fanned out, EDI moving to work at a console, some of us searching the space for clues, others simply moving out toward the windows to look at the admittedly _magnificent_ view.

Then . . .

_“Shepard.”_

All of us turned, weapons at the ready, and saw the Illusive Man’s image standing in the focus of the holoprojection stage.

_“You’re in my chair,”_ he stated.

Shepard lowered his sidearm. “This chair is about the only thing you have left. Cerberus is _finished_.”

_“Hardly. We have accomplished everything I ever imagined.”_ The Illusive Man paused for a moment. _“Well._ Almost _everything.”_

“Yeah,” said Shepard in weary disgust. “We all saw what you _accomplished_ at Sanctuary. It’s not the same thing as controlling the Reapers.”

_“A significant hurdle, I agree, but Sanctuary brought me within a single step of success. Thanks to the Prothean VI you recovered for me from Thessia, I now have everything I need to finish the task, once and for all.”_

“The Catalyst.”

_“Yes.”_

“What is it?” Shepard demanded. “How will it help you control the Reapers?”

The Illusive Man shook his head. _“You’ll have to pose your questions to the VI, Shepard. I’m_ done _helping you.”_

“When did you _start?”_

_“Shepard. You think because I’m willing to use the enemy’s methods, their technology, that they’re no longer my enemy? Everything I’ve done –_ everything _– has been to uplift humanity. Not only over the other species in this galaxy, but over the Reapers themselves.”_

“That’s bullshit,” Ashley said harshly. “There’s not a damn thing you’ve done that hasn’t been to promote your own power. You’re just one more in a long line of fascists.”

The Illusive Man’s face twisted with contempt. _“You haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”_

“I saw Sanctuary. That told me everything I needed to know.”

_“Then you’re a shallow fool.”_ The Illusive Man turned back to Shepard. _“Do you let your attack dog speak for you now?”_

“I trust Ash’s moral judgment a lot further than I trust yours.” Shepard walked up to the stage, almost into the Illusive Man’s personal space, had he been physically present. “I think I know where you are. You’re on the Citadel.”

_“A reasonable deduction.”_

“ _You_ moved the Citadel, didn’t you?”

_“Two in a row. Good to see you can still think, even without your pet asari to do it for you.”_

_“How?”_

_“That’s a very long story, and there just isn’t time.”_ The Illusive Man took a deep drag on his cigarette, holographic smoke drifting away from his face into oblivion. _“I’m here to give you one final warning, Shepard, because you were a useful ally once and I don’t want to see that go to waste. Events are already in motion. You have a part to play, and I think you already know what that is. Final victory over the Reapers can still happen, so long as you don’t stray from your role.”_

“You still think you’re going to beat the Reapers?” Shepard folded his arms and stared at the Illusive Man. “Don’t you see that everything you’ve done has been exactly in line with _their_ plan?”

_“Don’t be ridiculous.”_

“Come on. You’re a talented man, but you’re _just one man_. Do you really think you can outmaneuver an entire race of sentient machines with five billion years of experience? They’ve seen others just like you in the past, thousands of times. You’re a problem they know _perfectly well_ how to solve. They’ve been ahead of you the whole time.”

_“I’ve already outmaneuvered the Reapers. Just as I’ve long since outmaneuvered the Council, the Alliance, your Shadow Broker, and you.”_ Another long drag on the cigarette, then it fell to the floor, to be ground out under his heel. _“Shepard, I appreciate your skills and your idealism, but I had your measure a long time ago. You can’t beat the Reapers. Even if you could, the only thing you would do with that victory is to destroy them. That is the worst mistake we could possibly make. No. I have the Catalyst. I don’t have the Crucible, but I’ve arranged matters so that you have no choice left but to bring it to me. Once you do, the Reapers will be mine to command.”_

Suddenly I remembered something the Leviathans had told Shepard. Almost, almost, I stepped forward to put it on the table for the Illusive Man to consider.

_The Reapers are watching Shepard. They know his name. They speak of him. They actually fear him. He is the first organic being for whom that is true, in who knows how many millions of years._

_They don’t fear you, Jack Harper. They never have. From the moment one of their artifacts first touched you, all those years ago on Shanxi . . ._ they _have had_ your _measure. They’ve always known they could control you, in the end._

I said nothing. In the end, there was little point.

“With Cerberus in ruins, you _still_ think you can do this your way?”

_“Even at the end of things, Shepard, you still lack vision. You never really did believe in Cerberus.”_ The Illusive Man braced himself, as if delivering a summation. _“Cerberus is more than just an organization, or the people in it. Cerberus is an_ idea _. That idea is not so easily destroyed.”_

Shepard stood still for a moment, and then relaxed slightly in defeat. “Enough of this. EDI, status?”

“I’ve almost got it, Commander.”

_“EDI,”_ the Illusive Man called, his tone insinuating. _“I’m surprised at you. Working so hard to bring about the destruction of the Reapers. You could have destroyed Eva’s body. Yet you chose to control it.”_

“It was necessary,” said EDI, not losing the rhythm of her work.

_“My point exactly,”_ he said with satisfaction.

“I’ve got it,” she reported.

A shimmer of green-white light, and Vendetta appeared, standing before her console.

_“Online,”_ said the VI. _“Security breach detected.”_

_“Enjoy your little chat,”_ said the Illusive Man, _“but don’t overstay your welcome.”_

He turned away, his image shattering into a thousand scraps of light, and then vanished.

I never saw him again.

If only Shepard, or I, or _someone_ could have gotten through to him. If only we could have persuaded him to turn his strengths toward some better end. All that talent, all that sharp intelligence, all that potential for greatness. All of it lost, probably gone beyond recall long before I ever met him.

Even today, four hundred years after his death, I can only agree with Miranda’s assessment.

_What a waste._

* * *

“ _You are attempting to recover me from indoctrinated forces?”_ asked Vendetta.

“Yes,” said Shepard. “I need to know what the Catalyst is.”

“ _Security protocols have been overridden. I will comply. The Catalyst amplifies dark-energy transmissions, and coordinates the entire mass-relay network. In your cycle it is known as the Citadel.”_

“ _What?”_

“ _The Citadel is the Catalyst.”_

I frowned. Something about that statement bothered me, but at the time I couldn’t pin it down.

“So the Crucible and the Citadel, together, can stop the Reapers?”

“ _That is correct.”_

“But the Citadel was _built_ by the Reapers,” Shepard objected.

“ _The plans for the Crucible were passed down to us from the previous cycle, and from countless cycles before that. We do not know its origin. We speculate that at some point, its plans were modified to make use of the Catalyst as an amplification device. Presumably, it was discovered that by itself, the Crucible is not sufficient to defeat the Reapers.”_

“So we use their own technology against them,” said EDI.

“ _Precisely.”_

Shepard shook his head in frustration. “So why couldn’t you tell us this before?”

“ _It was feared that if the Reapers became aware of our intended use of the Catalyst, they would retake control of it. So long as the Catalyst remained free, I was programmed to conceal its nature until the Crucible itself was complete. However, as the Reapers have already captured the Citadel, there is no further point in concealment.”_

“Do you know where the Citadel is now?”

“ _The Citadel has been moved to Reaper-controlled space. To the star system you know as Sol. The Reapers will now consolidate power around the Catalyst and protect it at all costs. The odds of accessing it are remote.”_

“Don’t count us out yet. We’ve come this far, and we’ll finish this. We’ll get the Crucible to Earth.”

“ _I hope you find success.”_

“EDI, get me Admiral Hackett. He needs . . .”

_Zap._ The holographic console next to EDI vanished in a flare of light.

“Not so fast,” said Kai Leng, stepping out of the shadows.

I frowned.

_How does he keep doing that?_

Shepard didn’t waste any time on speculation. He drew his shotgun. _“You.”_

“He _did_ warn you not to overstay your welcome,” said the assassin.

Then he did something rather unusual.

He _charged_ us, all alone, and then set off a powerful _nova_ -blast that stunned all of us for an instant, ruining the perfection of the floor by blasting tiles in all directions. I had to throw a barrier into place to avoid getting sliced up by broken fragments of stone.

That quickly, we fell into a fight for our lives.

Afterward, I decided that the Illusive Man always had a last-ditch defensive system built into his private office. He would not have wanted Cerberus troopers standing about, ruining the perfection of the space, but they would have been on call at a moment’s notice, always ready to counterattack any invading force. Like us.

A full squad dropped into our midst, only a moment’s pause as they used the jets built into the legs and boots of their armor to come to a soft landing.

Kai Leng attacked Shepard, all acrobatic grace and flashing sword-edge. Shepard responded with a blinding-white flare of biotic corona and a blast from his shotgun.

The rest of us scattered, no time for planning or careful tactics, no time for anything but surviving the next few seconds.

I noticed one salient fact very quickly.

_There was no cover._

All of my limited combat experience had been on _messy_ battlefields, places where I could always find something to crouch behind for a moment. Take in the situation. Change thermal clips. Rebuild kinetic shields or biotic barriers. A tree, a wall, a stack of crates, a waist-high barrier that had no explicable reason for being there, _something_.

The Illusive Man’s office was a vast empty space. The only feature was his chair, too small for even one person to hide behind.

Nothing to prevent that Cerberus trooper – _that_ one, the one who just landed less than three meters away from you – from holding his gunfire on you as long as he cared to, tearing down your barriers, then your shields, and then your life.

Unless you killed him first.

Vara had never moved more than two meters from my side since we arrived. Now she and I went into action, no time to talk, no time to do anything but fight and trust each other. She emitted a high, shrill cry, hoping to distract the trooper. I made a control gesture and flung the most powerful singularity I could manage. Success, as the trooper’s feet left the ground and he whirled around helplessly. Vara hurled a warp into the midst of the vortex. _BOOM_. Detonation at point-blank range, and nothing remained of the man but shattered armor and a fountain of gore.

We went hunting.

Wild glimpses of the rest of the battle. Ashley engaged in close-quarters combat with a Cerberus trooper, a Nemesis aiming at her unprotected back for a moment until Javik cut that enemy down with his beam rifle. Miranda calmly pacing sideways around the edge of the field, utterly focused on Kai Leng, firing her submachine gun at the assassin. EDI using her holographic projection system to create an extra image of herself, then two, then three, until the Cerberus soldier attacking her got confused and she could snap his neck from behind.

Shepard engaged in close-quarters combat with Kai Leng.

“This is better than Thessia. More personal.”

_There it is. The use of psychology to undermine his opponent._

_Now can Shepard respond in kind, as we planned?_

I need not have worried.

Shepard drew back for a moment, circling slowly to Leng’s left. “The Illusive Man won’t thank you for killing me now. Apparently he needs me to make sure the Crucible gets delivered.”

“That’s easy enough to arrange, whether you’re alive or not.” Leng smiled. “I prefer not.”

Another lightning-fast exchange of blows, Shepard turning the blade aside with his Claymore, dodging a blast from Leng’s palm-weapon.

“Why do you keep fighting, Shepard?” Leng continued to watch for an opening, even while he spoke. “All you’re doing is making humanity weaker.”

“Is this how you plan to make humanity stronger? By using Reaper tech?”

“Yes! We evolve, or we die. Those are the options!”

“There are better ways to evolve,” said Shepard, and then _he_ launched an aggressive attack on Kai Leng, setting off a biotic _flare_ at point-blank range, charging forward when the assassin recoiled.

Now the assassin reverted to character. Rather than stand and face Shepard, he scattered holographic images to either side, vanished behind a tactical cloak, and retreated. A moment later, another _nova_ -blast tore up more of the office’s floor, scattering and stunning all of us.

More Cerberus soldiers. A heavier squad this time, with centurions in the mix.

I found myself crouched beside Ashley, neither of us engaged at the moment, both of us breathing hard from the exertion.

“When does Cerberus run out of men?” she grumbled.

“Has to be soon,” I told her. “Come on. Stick with me and Vara. Three of us can watch each other’s backs better than two.”

“No argument from me.”

We rose and hurled ourselves back into the fight, pulling Vara into our formation. A triangle, spinning rapidly across the ruined floor, rifle, blade, and biotics to all sides.

“Is _that_ the best you can do, Shepard?”

I heard Shepard _laugh_ for a moment. “How are the legs? Getting tired?”

We saw Miranda about to get swarmed, changed directions with a word from Ashley, swept across the floor, and smashed the enemy fire-team. Miranda caught Ashley’s eye for an instant, a sharp nod of thanks, and then she returned to her hunt for Kai Leng.

“My legs are fine. You’re _slow_ , Shepard.”

“I’m slow because I’m _not running away.”_

Of course, the Cerberus forces had no cover either. A Nemesis made her last mistake by forgetting she had no proper sniper’s nest. Focusing on Javik, across the room where he had engaged a trooper in close-quarters combat, she forgot to “check her six.” Javik buried his combat knife in the trooper’s throat, just a moment after Vara’s blade lashed out and took off the sniper’s head.

“You _always_ run away, Leng. Your whole strategy depends on it.”

The assassin scowled, threw himself at Shepard in a flurry of blows.

All of which Shepard managed to parry or block, suddenly moving with _astonishing_ speed.

“You ran at the Citadel. You ran on Thessia. You about ready to run away this time?”

_“Shut up!”_

Everyone in the room could hear the rage in Kai Leng’s voice.

_Oh Shepard. Perfect. You’ve won. All that’s left is to claim it._

Yet _another_ squad dropped in on us. This time supported by two Phantoms.

One of whom came directly for me.

I had an instant to nod to myself, recognizing Kai Leng’s stamp on the tactic. I could almost hear his voice as he gave the orders.

_Distract Shepard by taking out the asari bitch. It’s already worked twice._

“Vara!”

My acolyte’s head snapped around, just in time to see the Phantom clearly as I marked her with a powerful _warp_.

Ashley laid down withering gunfire. I pummeled the Phantom with biotic effects, slowing her down, _holding her attention_.

Vara came in from the woman’s blind side, and ran her through with the captured blade.

“Even if you win, you’re too late to stop what’s coming!” Kai Leng, positively _ranting_ now.

“Maybe, maybe not,” said Shepard, quite calmly. “One thing’s for sure, _you_ won’t be there to see it.”

I turned, just in time to see it.

Kai Leng ran at Shepard, a wordless scream on his lips, leaning forward, committing every muscle and nerve to the attack.

Shepard blasted at him with his shotgun, once, twice.

Kai Leng’s shields went down, just as he _leaped_ into the air, his sword moving in a great arc that would take Shepard’s head off if it connected.

Shepard turned slightly, his left fist lashing out, the armored gauntlet and all his biotic force behind it, at _precisely_ the right angle to meet the flat of the blade.

The weapon shattered.

Red light flashed, low by Shepard’s side.

His omni-blade, the weapon he never used, the weapon Kai Leng would not expect him to use, deployed in a fraction of a second.

Just in time for his follow-through movement, a pile-driver blow from his right fist, to slam into Kai Leng’s unprotected side.

I couldn’t see the assassin’s eyes, behind the cybernetic face-mask he always wore. The rest of his face, on the other hand, was clear to read.

_Utter astonishment._

Shepard spoke, still perfectly calm.

“That was for Thane, you son of a bitch.”

Kai Leng coughed. Blood gouted from his mouth, passing Shepard’s left shoulder to splatter on the floor.

Shepard released Leng, pushing him aside in a spasm of revulsion. The assassin fell on his back, blood pooling on a stretch of undamaged reflective tiles. He did not move.

All fell silent. Cerberus had apparently run out of soldiers.

Vendetta appeared, shimmering into existence less than two meters from Kai Leng’s lifeless body. _“The Citadel is in position. The Reapers are preparing to complete the harvest of your species.”_

“I’ll stop them,” said Shepard.

“ _It is too late. I recommend investigating a means of conserving information . . .”_

“I’ll _stop_ them.”

He turned away, leading us out of that place of beauty and sudden death.


	53. Eve of Battle

**_21 June 2186, Interstellar Space V minus 18 hours_ **

During our final approach to the Pax mass relay, we set up a final conference call with the admirals.

Aboard _Normandy_ we gathered around the conference table: Shepard, Garrus, Tali, Ashley, Javik, and me. Admiral Hackett presided from his war room aboard the SSV _Everest_ , while Admiral Anderson called in using one of the few QECs still available to the resistance on Earth.

“ _My staff says coordination of the fleets is complete,”_ said Hackett. _“The entire armada should be ready to rendezvous with us in ten hours, off the Utopia relay.”_

“ _Hmm. Seems strange for the muster point to be so close to Eden Prime,”_ said Anderson. _“We really have come full circle with all this, haven’t we?”_

“What are our numbers?” asked Shepard quietly.

“ _I’m sending the most recent updates to Dr. T’Soni now,”_ said Hackett.

My omni-tool chirped. I downloaded a large file to a datapad and scanned it. “It looks as if we have almost ninety-six percent of projections. Eighty-four dreadnoughts, now that the quarian and geth fleets have come in. All six of the surviving Alliance carriers. Just under five hundred cruisers. Several thousand smaller starships.”

“Impressive,” said Javik. “Our Unity began with a much larger fleet, but after the Reapers appeared, we never again succeeded in concentrating as much force as you have. Together with the new weapon systems you have installed on many of these ships . . .”

“ _Do you believe we have a chance to defeat the Reapers?”_ asked Hackett.

“ _Rrrh._ No. Not without the Crucible.” Javik made a sharp-edged smile. “Yet even without the Crucible, you may be able to _hurt_ the Reapers. Perhaps more badly than has happened in many cycles.”

Shepard lifted his head, as if he heard distant trumpets.

“ _Good. Then we may be able to present a credible threat, long enough to get the Crucible to the Citadel. The only problem I see is that the Reapers have closed the ward arms up tight.”_

I frowned. “The Crucible can’t dock with the Citadel with the arms closed.”

“Do we know anything about the situation on the Citadel?” Shepard asked.

“ _A little,”_ Anderson reported. _“The station is in a Clarke orbit, geostationary and almost exactly on the prime meridian. We’ve gotten a few transmissions from on board, not much more than fragments. Seems the Reapers captured the docks and most of the Presidium ring as soon as the station arrived here. Then C-Sec and the citizen militias got organized and started putting up a tough fight. They’ve managed to push back, hold most of the Wards.”_

“What about the Council, Admiral?”

“ _Tevos was killed in the first assault. No one has seen Osoba, and he’s presumed dead. Sparatus and Valern got to the wards safely. I understand Sparatus has actually picked up a rifle. He’s working with Commander Bailey and an asari Matriarch to keep the resistance alive.”_

“An asari Matriarch?” I gasped. “Who?”

“ _We didn’t get the name, sorry. I know what you’re thinking, Doctor, and it seems likely, but we don’t know for sure.”_

I nodded, fighting to subdue a moment’s hope that my father still lived.

“No chance that the people trapped on the Citadel can get the arms open?” Shepard asked.

“ _Doesn’t look that way. They tried to punch through to the Council Tower. They even got some unexpected reinforcements at a critical moment. Aria T’Loak made it through the Reaper blockade at Ilos, and put a couple hundred heavily-armed troops through the Conduit. It wasn’t enough. They got hurt bad, had to withdraw back to the Wards before they were swarmed under.”_

“We’ll have to plan for a major assault on the Presidium ring, then.”

“ _Maybe not. Have a look at this,”_ said Anderson.

The conference room screen lit up, showed us images of an urban landscape, dark and badly damaged. Demolished buildings, abandoned vehicles, streets empty of anything but wreckage . . .

A wide open space. In its center, a massive installation of Reaper technology. A beam of some sort of energy.

“What are we looking at, Admiral?” Shepard asked.

“ _London. This is what used to be Trafalgar Square,”_ said Anderson. _“The Reapers have smashed that whole part of the city flat, and set up this installation. It appears to be some kind of teleportation device, based on mass-effect technology. Terribly advanced. Our scientists, those few we have, can’t make head or tail of it. What we do know is that it’s focused on the Citadel.”_

Ashley nodded firmly. “Right. The prime meridian runs through Greenwich, just west of London. They’ve positioned the Citadel so it always has a clear line-of-sight to there.”

“Why London?” Shepard mused.

“ _No way to know,”_ said Anderson. _“Ever since the Citadel showed up, we’ve been hearing hints that something big is going on there. A massive concentration of Reaper forces. They’re rounding up all the humans they can find, alive or dead, and forcing them through that device. Apparently sending them to the Citadel, or at least that portion they hold.”_

“They might be starting the construction of a new Reaper,” I suggested.

“ _Maybe. What we do know is that this device constitutes another back door onto the Citadel. Possibly close to the control center that the Illusive Man used to move the station, wherever that is. Which would imply that if we can get our own people to it . . .”_

“We take control of the station _back_ from the Illusive Man, open the arms, and bring in the Crucible,” said Shepard decisively.

“ _It’s not much of a plan,”_ said Hackett, _“but it’s the best we have.”_

* * *

**_21 June 2186, Interstellar Space V minus 16 hours_ **

“Hey.”

I looked up from my desk and saw Shepard, looking fatigued, leaning against the doorway of my office. “Good evening, love.”

“I wondered where you were.”

I smiled. “EDI didn’t tell you?”

“She respects your privacy. Not like me.” He ambled forward, came to look over my shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Interrogating Vendetta.”

“That sounds awfully ruthless of you, T’Soni.”

“I suppose it does. Don’t worry, I don’t have to beat its cognitive storage bloody to get answers. It’s been very cooperative since we recovered it from Cronos Station.”

“What are you trying to find out, at this late stage?”

I sat still for a moment, debating whether to explain. He had more than enough to worry about already, the crucial battle coming in just a few hours, the weight of the galaxy already on his shoulders. Finally I sighed, knowing he would never turn way from knowledge just to keep his mind at ease.

“I’ve been researching the Catalyst. Specifically, _how did the Protheans know_ that the Catalyst and the Citadel are the same thing?”

“Hmm.” He leaned against my desk, his arms folded, his face shadowed. “I suppose that _is_ kind of important, given that we’re taking a Prothean VI at its word. So how _did_ they know?”

“Shepard . . . I don’t think they _did.”_

He frowned. “Maybe it’s just that I’m dead tired, but that doesn’t make sense. What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that they _guessed._ They learned from the _inusannon_ that some component outside the Crucible itself was essential to the system. They translated the term _catalyst_ from _inusannon_ technical records. They followed clues in the _inusannon_ designs, deducing that the Crucible was designed to mate with the Citadel before firing. At some point they began to _assume_ that the Citadel and the mysterious Catalyst were one and the same.”

“But they never _proved_ it,” Shepard said heavily.

“No. They never got the chance to deploy the Crucible and test it. I have to wonder. If they _had_ managed to deploy the Crucible, dock it with the Citadel in their cycle, would it even have fired for them?”

I watched his face for a reaction, almost afraid of what I would see, but to my surprise his expression didn’t change at all.

“You’ve already thought of this,” I said after a moment.

Slowly, he nodded. “I don’t have your analytic expertise, but I like to think I have some skill in recognizing bullshit. I noticed right away, when Vendetta made its statement about the nature of the Catalyst, that it didn’t provide any arguments in support. Just a dogmatic assertion.”

I leaned back in my chair and chuckled ruefully. “Then why didn’t you discuss this with me?”

“Like I said, I don’t have your analytic expertise. I could easily have been wrong. Besides, you’ve been recovering from a serious injury, not to mention having all the props of your world-view knocked out from under you at the same time. It didn’t seem like the right moment.”

“I wish you hadn’t kept this to yourself. Now we’re back to the beginning. We still don’t know what the Catalyst is.”

Shepard shook his head. “I have to hope that we can _discover_ what it is, and provide it as needed, when the moment arrives. We don’t have anything more to lose at this point, so why assume we’ll fail?”

“Hmm. Not to mention the odds against us even getting the Crucible into position in the first place.”

“Yeah. There’s that too.”

I looked back at my console for a long moment, and then decided that I was _done_. No more research, no more analysis, no more searching for answers. Anything we still did not know, I was not going to be able to discover in the next eight hours. Either we would win with what we had, or we would not win at all.

The Shadow Broker had reached the end of the line. Nothing remained for her to accomplish.

Time for Liara T’Soni to claim a few final hours for herself, and for the man she loved.

“Come on,” I said, standing up from my desk. “Let’s go up to your cabin.”

“You sure? Dr. Chakwas . . .”

“If Dr. Chakwas can clear me to go fight on Cronos Station, I think we can assume it will be safe for me to sleep with my bondmate one last time before the battle.”

He took my hand gently. “Can’t argue with that.”

“Glyph, put the command node on standby. Operational command goes to Quintus Trevanian on _Cannae_ until further notice.”

“ _Acknowledged, Doctor. Good night.”_

The lights dimmed in my office as we left, Glyph’s blue-white glow hovering by the door to wait for my return.

We walked to the lift, Shepard exchanging nods with one or two of the crew. Garrus and Tali saw us from the mess hall, the turian bestowing a wave and a wide-mandibled smile as we passed. Still hand in hand, we took the lift up two levels and walked out into his cabin.

I glanced up at him as we walked down into his quarters. “Do you feel ready for tomorrow, Shepard?”

“You first.”

“Very fair.” I chuckled for a moment, and then became sober. “What I want most is for this war to end. While there’s still a galaxy left to save, and both of us still alive to see it. Everyone’s counting on you to do that for us. It must be overwhelming.”

He released my hand, sat down on the bed and then let himself lie back to stare up through the skylight. “How _do_ you get ready for something like this?”

“You cajole, and threaten, and make tremendous sacrifices. Until the galaxy realizes it has someone worth following.”

“You think so?”

“There’s no doubt in my mind.” I lay down beside him, took his hand once more, and cuddled close with my head on his shoulder. Together, we watched the stars pass by for a while.

“It would be easy for a single ship to get lost up there, wouldn’t it?” I asked wistfully.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “It would.”

“To find someplace very far away, where you could spend the rest of your life. In peace, and happiness.”

He rumbled deep in his chest, rolled toward me so he could kiss me gently on the cheek. “Right now, there’s no place I’d rather be than here.”

“Neither would I.” My lips found his, a tender kiss that melted me in its heat. “I love you, Shepard.”

“I love you too, Liara.”

I smiled at him. “Show me.”

He did.

The old dance, made familiar through frequent practice, yet always new.

His hands on my skin, his lips on my throat, my collarbone, my breasts. The heat of his breath on the intimate places of my body. The incredible softness and heat of his skin. His scent, aroused, heavy and human. The mass of him, the bulk of his muscles, raw strength moving under the discipline of his mind. The electric sensation of my corona surging, merging with his, lifting both of us off the bed. His hands finding my _azure,_ sending waves of trembling delight up my spine. The hot ache in my belly, animal desire, the urge to open myself to him. The deep sensual delight when he entered my body at last, when my mind surged across the gap to merge with his.

I soared high and deep, sharing myself with him, devouring him, becoming one with him. Again. Familiar, yet always new.

The core of his soul, infinitely precious, unique in the entire universe. I touched it, but I had learned how to cherish it without trying to read it, without the futility of an attempt to conceive his child. For a few seconds, for an eternity, I simply drifted in its presence. A worshiper kneeling in the presence of her deity, an ascetic in the throes of mystical experience, an asari learning her lover to the least and final detail.

I held him tightly as his body convulsed in its climax, and shouted in triumph.

_Shepard. I am yours. Always._

Spent, we lay in his bed, entwined in one another’s arms, our minds still in gentle contact, the stars drifting by overhead.

We slept.

* * *

**_22 June 2186 V minus 10 hours_ **

Shepard did his best to slip out from under me without waking me, but as usual he failed.

I stirred. “You can’t sleep?”

He sat on the edge of the bed, his broad back toward me, his head down. The ghost of our joining told me that he suffered a touch of depression. A common occurrence, ever since the Reapers arrived. I knew he wouldn’t let it affect him in the field.

“We’re almost there,” he said.

“Already?” I slid across the bed to curl around him, rest my chin on his shoulder. “It seems as if the time has flown by.”

“I hope everyone is ready.”

“You don’t need to worry about that. You’ve rallied who you could. The Reapers won’t get any more chances to divide us.” I felt my face set with determination, and not a little pride. “This time, the galaxy follows _our_ lead.”

“I know.” He took a deep breath, sat up a little straighter. “There will be casualties. I just wonder how many.”

I hugged him. “You’re not alone in this fight now, my love. Take strength from that.”

“Thanks, Liara.” He smiled, turned his head to brush my lips with his.

“My pleasure.”

He rose from the bed, heading for the shower, strength in his step once more. I watched him go, part of my mind as always enjoying the sight of his nude body.

Then terror struck me, unwanted and uninvited, and all thought of sensual indulgence fled.

I knew what faced us. I knew that as bad as I could possibly imagine, the reality would be far worse.

I wasn’t afraid for myself. I was _terrified_ for him.

I knew to the fraction of a minute how long it would take him to shower, shave, and emerge from the fresher cubicle to get dressed. When he saw me again, he saw a tough, competent, proud asari, ready to leap into the fire at his side. Exactly what I wanted him to see, what he most needed to see.

I don’t think he ever realized what a wreck I was, the day of the Battle of Earth.

* * *

**_22 June 2186, Allied Fleets Muster Point, Utopia System Space V minus 8 hours_ **

_Normandy_ and the Fifth Fleet arrived at the muster point, to find the rest of the armada already waiting.

I had never seen such an extensive, such a _crowded_ tactical plot. Thousands of ships, arranged in an orderly manner across a rough sphere a million kilometers in diameter. Almost the entire remaining turian and asari fleets. The bulk of the Alliance fleet, except for those ships guarding the Crucible at its construction site. A small but powerful task force of salarian ships. The entire Migrant Fleet, minus those few ships that had remained at Rannoch to watch over the new settlement there. The entire geth fleet. Batarian ships, volus, hanar, elcor. A sizable portion of Aria’s Terminus Systems fleet.

The first armada of a united galaxy in at least fifty thousand years.

Admiral Hackett set to work organizing all of the forces now under his command, issuing orders based on his master plan for the battle. An hour passed. Then two.

No orders came for _Normandy_. Ashley, Samantha, and I handled routine message traffic from _Everest_ and other ships, but nothing came for Shepard, no indication of where we fit in Hackett’s grand scheme. Shepard began to pace back and forth behind the command dais in the CIC, refusing to complain, but clearly concerned.

Finally, just as Shepard was about to call the admiral directly, _Everest_ began to move in the plot.

Moving to intercept us.

“ _Commander, you’ve got a priority message from Admiral Hackett, requesting permission to come aboard.”_

“Permission granted,” Shepard rapped out, concealing his emotions behind a shield of military discipline.

A minute later, we all heard the _boom_ of the docking tube joining us to the Alliance flagship.

Three men emerged from the front airlock: Admiral Hackett in his full dress uniform, and two armed bodyguards. They walked down the long corridor to the CIC, every human stopping to offer a crisp salute as the admiral passed. Hackett stalked along, barely acknowledging the salutes as he passed, his eyes fixed on one man.

For that man, he stepped up and rendered his own salute. “Commander.”

“Admiral.” Shepard dropped his salute in perfect form, standing at attention. I stood just behind him and to his side, at ease since I was a civilian, but politely attentive.

“Are you ready to bring the might of the galaxy to bear on the Reapers?”

“Yes, _sir.”_

“Then let’s make sure the fleets are ready.”

Samantha tapped at controls at her station, compared readings to a datapad in her hand. When she spoke, her voice was cool and surprisingly military. “All fleets reporting in, sir.”

Hackett stepped up onto the command dais and braced his shoulders. “Fleet all-hands.”

Samantha touched a control and nodded.

Hundreds of thousands of soldiers and starship crewmen listened in tense silence.

“Never before have so many come together, from all quarters of the galaxy,” Hackett declaimed, his voice heard by every member of that vast congregation. “But never before have we faced an enemy such as this.

“The Reapers will show us no mercy. We must give them no quarter.

“They will terrorize our populations. We must stand fast in the face of that terror.

“They will advance until our last city falls, but _we_ will _not_ fall.

“ _We will prevail._

“Each of us will be defined by our actions in the coming battle. _Stand fast. Stand strong. Stand together.”_

I half-expected the admiral to close the all-hands channel, but he surprised me. Stepping down from the command dais, he turned once more to face Shepard. He produced a data chip and handed it to my bondmate.

“Commander Shepard. These are your orders. Under your command, _Normandy_ will lead the armada through the relay into Sol space. _You_ will deploy the armada to Earth. _You_ will give the order to launch our assault against the Reapers.” Hackett braced and saluted once more. “You have earned this position, and I can think of no one better suited to carry out such a mission.”

Shepard returned the salute, and for once he had nothing to say. “Thank you, Admiral,” he finally managed, his voice thick with emotion.

“Sir . . .” Samantha gasped in surprise, staring at the tactical plot.

It started with the Alliance ships, _Everest_ and the Fifth Fleet, then all the rest. Then the turian ships followed suit, the asari close behind, then _all_ of them. Within moments every vessel in that armada, even the _batarian_ ships, all of them began to flash a single Alliance call sign.

_NF674._

_Normandy. Normandy. Normandy._

Finally, at the end of all things, offering Shepard the tribute he deserved.

Every eye was on him, and I stood right next to him. I couldn’t do what I wanted, which was to break down in tears again. I stood there, my eyes dry and my head held high, full to overflowing with pride for him.

“Let’s go, Commander,” said Hackett quietly. “Let’s show the Reapers how it’s done.”


	54. The Battle of Earth

**_22 June 2186, Sol System Space V minus 5 hours, 30 minutes_ **

_Normandy_ dropped through the Charon Relay into normal geometry, a dull _boom_ resounding through the hull. At once, we flew away from the inbound lanes at maximum acceleration, clearing the space.

For about three seconds, we soared alone.

Then . . .

Had anyone been nearby to see, they might have thought it a glory of fireworks. A few ships, then hundreds, then _thousands_ , all surged through the relay into normal space. The entire allied armada made a coordinated transit through the relay network, over _eight thousand ships_ arriving in Sol space in less than ten minutes, an immense eruption of gravity and light in the darkness.

_“Alliance fleets confirm transit complete,”_ Samantha reported, from back in the CIC.

I’ve examined the records. That maneuver was, by far, the largest single transition of naval tonnage through a single relay in known galactic history. According to Javik, not even the Protheans had ever accomplished such a feat. Possibly _no_ civilization had, in countless millions of years.

_Normandy_ led them all. Shepard stood on the ship’s bridge, silent and motionless, an icon in black and crimson posted behind Joker’s shoulder. I stood close by, watching the displays, marveling at what Admiral Hackett had wrought.

“ _Turian fleets confirm transit complete.”_

Primarch Victus and the core of the turian navy, still about forty percent of its pre-war muster, ready to defend Palaven by bringing the Crucible to bear against the Reapers.

“ _Asari fleets confirm transit complete.”_

_Destiny Ascension_ loomed large behind us, Matriarch Lidanya in command, leading the last remnants of the Asari Republics against those who had sacked Thessia.

“ _Salarian fleets confirm transit complete.”_

Not the entirety of the salarian navy, to be sure, but several dreadnoughts and their accompanying smaller craft. Quick, powerful, probably the most technologically advanced ships we had, ready to strike at the Reapers in the hope that they would not have to fight at home.

“ _Expeditionary Force transports confirm transit complete.”_

A thousand merchant ships and freighters, drawn from all over the galaxy, most of them hastily converted for troop transport and military logistics. They carried almost a _million_ soldiers for the coming battle. A substantial number of these were elite krogan warriors, under the command of Urdnot Wrex.

“ _Quarian fleet confirms transit complete.”_

Almost every armed vessel that remained to the Migrant Fleet, centered on the quarian liveships, with Han’Gerrel, Zaal’Koris, and Shala’Raan exercising joint command. They flew with . . .

“ _Geth fleet confirms transit complete.”_

The geth brought every ship they could spare, a great phalanx of dreadnoughts and all their supporting ships, technologically advanced and perfectly coordinated. The geth moved alongside their ancient enemies, the two of them already learning to cooperate effectively.

The last segments of the armada reported in: a single volus dreadnought, along with the small but powerful volus bombing fleet; a heavy squadron of hanar cruisers and frigates, crewed in part by grim-faced drell technicians; Ka’hairal Balak and the last vestiges of the batarian navy; Captain Jarral and about half of Aria T’Loak’s rag-tag flotilla of mercenaries and pirates; a few elcor ships.

Even I had made a small contribution. Every one of the Shadow Broker’s ships was out there somewhere, flying under Hackett’s command, including the three _Normandy-_ class frigates that had survived the war thus far. Quintus Trevanian commanded _Cannae_ , Tazzik commanded _Dark River,_ and Feron commanded _Sheguntai_.

In my disillusionment I had given up on the habit of prayer. Even so, I made a silent wish, that our friends and allies might survive the hours to come.

“ _All fleets confirm transit complete. Maneuver Alpha complete.”_

The entire armada was present and in formation, accelerating at two gees toward distant Sol, leaving the icy dwarf planet Pluto in our wake. Only then did Shepard speak, glancing to his right at a gleaming figure in Alliance undress uniform, sitting in the co-pilot’s chair. “EDI, are you ready?”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Then get to it.”

I glanced at the mech as it folded its hands in its lap, closed its eyes, and became utterly motionless.

An indicator on her console surged. _Normandy_ had opened a _very_ -high-bandwidth channel back to the armada.

“ _Processing,”_ her voice announced over internal comms. _“Processing . . . I have access. Protocol handshakes complete. Cryptologic protocols online. I am in full communion with the geth consensus.”_

The next maneuver would normally have required many hours, perhaps even days, of preparation. More than enough time for the Reapers around Earth to detect our presence, and prepare for our arrival.

Fortunately we had two sentient supercomputers on hand, EDI aboard _Normandy_ and ARGOS aboard _Cannae_ . . . not to mention the combined computational power of millions of geth runtimes. Before even ten minutes had passed, every observation had been made, every calculation distributed.

“ _All fleets confirm ready for Maneuver Bravo,”_ said Samantha.

“Maneuver Bravo on my mark,” commanded Shepard. “Three. Two. One. _Mark.”_

Almost simultaneously, every ship in the armada jumped into FTL, for just a little over four seconds.

_Boom_. The sound of our return to normal geometry sounded through _Normandy_ ’s hull once more.

Sunlight through the forward viewports, the golden light of Sol, only eight light-minutes away. Off to our right, the tarnished pearl of Earth’s moon, showing new scars from the Reaper bombardment that had smashed all of humanity’s colonies there. Ahead of us . . .

Blue and white in the sunlight, crimson and tarnished silver in the dark, battered but still beautiful, a world only sixty thousand kilometers away.

_“All fleets confirm transit complete, breakout within acceptable tolerances. No casualties. Maneuver Bravo complete.”_

_“Contacts.”_ Another voice: Miranda Lawson, working to paint an image of enemy dispositions _. “Reaper signatures identified. Human resistance intel confirmed. Estimate seven-five_ Sovereign _-class capital ships, four-two-zero destroyers, prox four thousand_ Oculus _-class drones. Already moving to interdict the Citadel and Earth.”_

Shepard and I shared a quick glance. On paper, we actually outnumbered the Reapers currently present around Earth, by a narrow margin. In practice, given their massive technological superiority, the odds were _much_ less favorable.

_About four-to-one against us, and that assumes we can coordinate our attack perfectly. Whereas normal military doctrine calls for attack at no less than three-to-one odds in favor._

“ _Targeting priorities have been allocated and assigned,”_ said EDI, still working with ARGOS and the geth consensus to compute the best possible pattern for our first salvos. _“Admiral Hackett signals concurrence.”_

Shepard nodded, his voice betraying none of the unease he must have felt. “All right, this is it, everyone. Be ready on my signal.”

He waited, five seconds, then ten, watching the small tactical plot sent to the bridge from the CIC. The allies and the Reapers accelerated toward one another, approaching optimal firing distance for our dreadnoughts.

_“Fire!”_

Our armada, dreadnoughts arranged in front to form a _wall of battle_ , opened fire on the Reapers.

Even in our viewports I could see the result: great waves of projectiles, glowing blue-hot against the darkness of space, rolling away from us toward the distant Reapers. Unfortunately my naked eye was helpless to see the result. The closest Reaper forces still flew almost ten thousand kilometers away, even the enormous _Sovereign_ -class ships vanishing in that distance.

_“Reaper weapons fire,”_ said Miranda.

Crimson beams of energy lashed out across space, seeking our ships.

_“All dreadnoughts, stay on target,”_ Admiral Hackett commanded.

I felt a deep chill. Hackett was accepting an enormous risk. Our dreadnoughts _could_ eventually wear down the massive kinetic barriers of _Sovereign_ -class platforms. It had been done on several occasions during the war, especially at Palaven. Unfortunately it required _sustained_ fire, from several of our heaviest ships, to take down one Reaper. Evasive action might keep our dreadnoughts alive longer, but it would badly degrade our ability to maintain sustained fire on the designated targets.

“ _First confirmed Reaper kill,”_ said Miranda, her voice still cold and calm.

“Yes!” hissed Joker, although his attention never wavered from his boards.

“Dauntless _destroyed,”_ reported Samantha.

“ _Second confirmed Reaper kill.”_

“Ancient Mandate _destroyed._ Elbrus _destroyed._ Rainier _destroyed.”_

The Reapers were finding our range. Four dreadnoughts killed in less than two minutes.

_“Stay on target,”_ said Hackett.

_“Third confirmed Reaper kill.”_

“Indomitable _destroyed._ Dominion _destroyed._ Galactic Unity _destroyed.”_

I performed a quick calculation in my head. At this rate, by the time we ran out of dreadnoughts, the Reapers would still have about half of their _Sovereign_ -class ships left. To say nothing of the hundreds of similar Reaper platforms, still out harvesting the rest of the galaxy.

_We are hurting them. Not enough to defeat them. Not even enough to slow them down very much._

Meanwhile, Shepard watched for the point at which he would issue his final order to the fleet. Optimal firing range for our cruisers and smaller craft, not long before the point at which the _Oculus_ drones would swarm into our formation. Our own fighter wings would have to deploy, to defend us from that threat.

“Cruiser squadrons, fighter squadrons, stand by.” Shepard’s voice remained under coldly perfect control. “On my command, engage the Reaper forces.”

_“Roger that,”_ came a masculine human voice, one of the fighter pilots. _“All fighters, form up on me!”_

Up ahead, I could see a kind of _graininess_ in the dark, a veil composed of many tiny objects catching the sunlight. My first sight of the Reaper forces: the _Sovereign_ -class platforms in their own wall of battle, hundreds of support ships, thousands of _Oculus_ drones.

Shepard watched his plot, turned out the drone of Miranda and Samantha’s voices, waited, waited a moment longer . . .

“All allied forces, attack!”

_“Acknowledged.”_

_Normandy_ leaped forward, leading all of our smaller ships for the last time, hurling us into the hottest part of the growing Battle of Earth. The apparently empty space before us suddenly turned into a howling storm of blue and crimson light. I lost the thread, unable to follow events any longer.

“Go get ‘em, Joker,” said Shepard, resting a hand on the pilot’s shoulder for a moment. “We’ll be back in the CIC until it’s time to go support Hammer.”

“You got it, Commander.” Joker glanced over his shoulder at us for just a moment, all the time he could spare from the battle. “Be careful down there.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll be fine. Stay focused.”

“Aye-aye.”

Once we reached the CIC, little remained for Shepard to do. With the allied fleets fully committed, overall direction of the battle reverted to Admiral Hackett. Shepard had to fly and fight his own ship, but most of that task was up to Ashley, Joker, the gunners, and the engineers. For the most part he watched the large tactical plot, waited for orders from Hackett, issued an occasional order of his own, and otherwise left his crew alone to do their jobs.

I couldn’t follow the tactical plot in detail. It looked far too crowded, exceeding all my prior experience in naval warfare by at least two orders of magnitude. I _could_ see the allied fleets fully entangled with the Reaper formation, most of our units firing at targets of opportunity rather than according to an overall plan. Only our hard kernel of dreadnoughts continued to hammer at the _Sovereign_ -class Reapers, taking them down one at a time, accepting terrible losses in return.

I found myself standing close to Javik, who stayed to the shadows at the edge of the CIC to avoid getting in anyone’s way. He stared at the plot with uncanny concentration. I wondered whether he saw details I could not.

“Impressive,” he muttered after a few minutes. “Already your forces have destroyed more Reapers than our Unity ever managed. I doubt they have taken such losses in a very long time.”

“It’s not enough.”

“No.” His broad head rose, as if to focus on some detail of the battle. “This is your last effort. If this attempt fails, if this armada scatters in defeat, then the Reapers have won. They will hunt you down and destroy you in detail.”

_“Us,”_ I breathed insistently. “You are part of this war too, Javik.”

“ _Rrrh._ My apologies, Dr. T’Soni. I am too accustomed to thinking of all in this cycle as primitives, as something other than the Unity, something lesser and base. In some ways that is true. Your technology is inferior, your systems of government are naïve, and your disunity has done you much harm. Yet . . .” He raised a hand, as if to reach into the tactical plot. “I can see great courage and strength of will here. You have accomplished things that my people could not.”

I smiled wearily at him. “What is your tactical assessment, Commander First Class Javik Taran?”

“As you said, it is not enough.” He pointed. “There. Do you see? The allied fleets have lost their forward momentum. They continue to inflict damage on the Reapers, but they also continue to pay a terrible price, and they have stopped making progress toward Earth.”

I watched the plot for perhaps a minute. It helped if I unfocused my eyes slightly, made no attempt to pick out fine details. If all I could see was two shapes, crimson and blue, then I could discern what Javik had told me.

The blue mass had pushed some distance into crimson-held space, but then it had been forced to stop, stand its ground, fight simply to hold what it had already taken. Even the immediate vicinity of the Citadel remained in Reaper control. Earth itself, another forty thousand kilometers ahead, may as well have been in the Andromeda galaxy.

Five minutes passed. Ten. _Normandy_ swooped and soared, gunning down Reaper drones by the fistful, even helping to destroy a few destroyer-class platforms. We took minor damage, not enough to impair our fighting capacity. I ignored all of this, watched the tactical plot.

I glanced at Shepard. He kept his face well-disciplined, but I knew how to read it nonetheless. The corners of his mouth turned down, his eyes looked icy and bleak, and his arms folded as he stared at the plot. He knew.

_“All ships, shift to targeting plan Delta-Five,”_ said Hackett. _“Make for the Citadel at one-half gee.”_

I frowned. If I remembered the battle plans correctly, Hackett had just done something Shepard would have called _doubling down_. He was gambling that a _more_ aggressive approach would push the Reapers back far enough, and still leave him in command of a viable fleet afterward.

The blue inched forward, then a little more. The white icon representing the Citadel almost fell into the blue volume.

Almost. Not quite.

Shepard and Ashley took a moment to exchange grim looks.

_“Contacts!”_ shouted Miranda.

Shepard stared at her. “Where?”

“Just dropped out of FTL a few thousand kilometers in the rear, accelerating toward us _hard!”_

Shepard’s face went pale. I knew what he was thinking.

_Reaper reinforcements. This is the end._

Then a comm channel crackled into life, and a _noise_ poured into the CIC, one of the weirdest sounds I had ever heard. It rose and fell, buzzing and howling, and for a moment I couldn’t imagine what it might be.

Then I recognized it.

_Rachni song._

“Traynor, get a translation matrix on that!” Shepard snapped.

“Right away!”

A display flickered into life, text scrolling across it.

**WE COME TO FIGHT THOSE WHO TAINTED THE SONG OF OUR MOTHERS.**

**OUR CRESCENDO WILL CLEANSE THE UNIVERSE OF THEIR SOUR YELLOW NOTE.**

A wave of ships rolled _through_ our formation, decelerating but still moving fast, slamming into the Reaper wall of battle.

“Confirmed Reaper kill. Another. _Another . . .”_

“My God,” Samantha breathed. “A _dozen_ dreadnoughts. How did they build so many in so short a time?”

“They breed fast, they’re superb engineers, and they’re _motivated,”_ said Shepard, a moment’s joy in his voice.

She smiled at him. “Good thing you saved them, then. _Twice.”_

“ _All ships,”_ said Hackett’s voice, seizing the advantage. _“Shift to targeting plan Delta-Eight. Use discretionary fire to support the rachni. Accelerate to one full gee.”_

Following the rachni fleet, the allies pressed forward. Still firing, still taking heavy losses, they _pushed_ at the Reaper wall of battle. Pushed hard.

Pushed until something _gave_.

It didn’t look like a panicked retreat. The Reapers simply turned, all at once, and began to accelerate away from us in a leisurely manner. They continued to fire at us, they used smaller platforms and swarms of _Oculus_ drones to screen their maneuver, but the movement seemed very clear.

The Citadel fell into the volume of space we held. The Reapers completed their disengagement and began to accelerate more strongly, leaving our formation behind.

Admiral Hackett ordered a cautious advance on Earth, staying just out of the Reapers’ firing range.

“Traynor, what’s the fleet’s status?” Shepard asked after a time.

“We’ve taken heavy losses, Commander,” said the specialist quietly. “Casualty reports are still coming in, but I estimate we’ve lost almost half of our effective strength. Not counting the rachni, of course. They bring us back up to about three-quarters of our original numbers.”

“Reaper casualties?”

“Twenty-three _Sovereign_ -class ships confirmed killed,” said Miranda quietly.

“Out of over a thousand in the galaxy as a whole,” I pointed out. “The Reapers will be more than a million years replacing the losses they took today. Even so, without the Crucible, we won’t be around to celebrate.”

“At least we’ve secured Citadel space for now,” said Shepard. “Let’s see what Hackett says.”

We didn’t have long to wait.

“Message from Fleet Command,” said Samantha. _“Partial superiority established in Earth close-orbital space. Hammer assets are ordered to deploy according to plan Foxtrot-Three.”_

_Foxtrot-Three:_ deployment of the entire Hammer force to the British Isles and northern France, some troops sent to suppress outlying Reaper positions, most to land in London in order to set up a Forward Operating Base. Once again, Hackett had chosen to commit all of his resources to the attack.

_He knows as well as we do: there’s no point in holding anything back for a reserve. We win or we die._

“That’s it,” said Shepard. “Ash, muster on the staging deck in five minutes. You know the plan.”

“Aye-aye, Skipper.” Ashley saluted and set out at once for the lifts.

Shepard touched a control on his command dais.

“All hands, this is the CO.” He paused for a moment, gathering words. “In a few minutes, we’re going to deploy all of our ground forces to support Hammer. Lieutenant Adams will be in command until the fight is over and we all come home. I know I can count on every one of you to give the last full measure of devotion to your duties.

“All of you know what’s at stake. The next few hours, what we do in this little space of time, will determine the fate of _everyone_ in the galaxy.

“I know that’s a terrible burden to bear. Never in our history has so much hinged on what a few men and women can find it in themselves to do.

“But know this. I have faith that _we will win this fight_. The Reapers think they can discount us, that nothing we do will ever make any difference. I say we’ve _already_ proved them wrong, and twenty-three of them are dead now to show it.

“We did that. _You_ did that. You, the crew of _Normandy_ , who have struggled and fought and beaten the impossible odds, over and over again. I am proud of every one of you, and I am grateful beyond measure that it has been given me to lead you in this terrible time.”

He paused, searching all the eyes that watched him there in the CIC. Ending with mine.

“A few more hours. One more victory. Then I promise you, every living thing that comes after us, for however many millions of years the future has in store, _all of them_ will remember what you did here today. All of them will remember the name of _Normandy_. Stay strong, stay focused, do your jobs. When the sun rises on London tomorrow, _it will shine on a world free of the Reapers.”_

Standing straight and tall on the dais, he gave his crew a crisp salute.

Every human in that space returned it.

Then he turned away, stepped down without a backward glance, and looked at me. “Well, T’Soni, are you ready for this?”

“As ready as I ever will be,” I answered him with a smile. “Although after a speech like that, I feel as if that may be a little better than before.”

“That’s why we give speeches like that,” he said. “Come on. Let’s put boots on the ground.”


	55. The Ruins of London

**_22 June 2186, Earth Orbital Space V minus 4 hours_ **

_“Advance teams are away,”_ said Joker from the _Normandy_ bridge. _“Hammer’s in position and waiting for your guys to clear a path.”_

“Got it,” Shepard answered. “Stay safe, Joker, and we’ll all be back before you know it.”

_“I’ll hold you to that._ Normandy _out.”_

Shepard glanced around the shuttle’s main compartment at his team: Ashley, EDI, Javik, Vara, and me. I caught Shepard’s eye, gave him a grim nod, and then went back to checking my weapons and gear.

Garrus, Tali, and Miranda had remained behind on _Normandy_ to help coordinate the deployment of Hammer. James and the rest of our Marines made up part of Hammer, waiting for advance scouts like us to deploy. Our mission was to clear an approach for Hammer, and possibly take out some of the Hades cannons interdicting London.

“Closing in on the LZ, Commander,” said Cortez from the cockpit.

“How’s it look?”

“Like hell. Take a look for yourself.” Cortez redirected the external cameras to our compartment, so all of us could see what was in store for us.

I had never been to London in the days of its living glory. Now it seemed I would never get the chance. It may have started as one of the greatest cities of Earth, but now nothing remained but a wasteland. Most buildings had been beaten down to no more than one or two stories, shells with no roofs and sometimes no walls. Streets lay deserted, filled with wrecked vehicles and the rubble of shattered buildings. I saw no sign of electrical power, almost no light at all except for scattered fires and an eerie glow from the Reaper facility on the horizon. I also saw no sign of human life, although I did spot occasional movement in the ruins: husks, cannibals, and other Reaper creatures on patrol. I hoped at least some of the populace had gotten to safety, but I knew most had not.

“It doesn’t even look like Earth anymore,” said Ashley.

_“Rrrh._ At least there will be plenty of cover,” muttered Javik.

Somehow, no one saw fit to rebuke the Prothean for his ill-timed humor. If it was humor.

Suddenly the shuttle banked hard, all of us grabbing for something to hold on to.

_“Shit!”_ snarled Cortez. “One of those Hades cannons has a lock on us. Hold on!”

We went through a moment of violent maneuvering. I heard an explosion from outside, and realized one of the other shuttles closest to us had been killed.

“Damn it!” was Cortez’s comment.

“Report,” snapped Shepard.

“That was the heavy weapons squad. They’ve gone down in what used to be Swanley, about twenty-five klicks from the mustering area for the FOB. I doubt any of them survived the crash.”

“Who’s on that cannon now?”

“As far as I can tell, nobody in the vicinity. All either deployed or shot down already.”

“All right, drop us off.”

“Sir?”

“Someone has to take that thing out before Hammer comes in, or else we’ll see a lot more shuttles taken down.”

“Understood. If you can get to the crash site, they were carrying heavy weapons. You could use those to take out the cannon.”

Less than a minute, and the shuttle came low over a long slope, relatively clear of rubble and wreckage. The shuttle door opened.

We charged out, into darkness and noise.

The landing zone seemed hot, very hot, cannibals and marauders already swarming to attack us, as we deployed behind the first cover we could find. No time to think, only to throw warps and singularities in all directions, firing at targets of opportunity. Vara and I worked together, covering each another’s flanks and timing our biotic feats to set off echoing detonations every few seconds.

Then the Hades cannon fired into the night sky, blazing light and thunderous clamor, enough to play havoc with our senses. I had to blink hard and shake my head to clear it, and nearly had a cannibal cut me down with a grenade for my pains. Fortunately Shepard flash-charged the creature just as it threw, ruining its aim.

Up a slope we moved, slowly, fighting hard every step of the way. There were so _many_ of the Reapers’ creatures, I began to worry that we would run out of thermal clips long before we reached the downed shuttle.

_“Damn,”_ said Cortez. _“It’s too hot. I can’t stay here, sir.”_

“Get clear,” Shepard commanded, throwing a fierce shockwave into the middle of the Reaper line. “Come back and get us once we’ve taken that cannon down.”

_“Roger that. Cortez out.”_

Shepard charged forward, taking up a new position, in cover just a few meters away from a whole enemy squad. My heart jumped in fear, I broke cover – Vara spitting a curse and following just behind – and rushed forward, laying a singularity down just ahead of him to cover his advance.

_So many of them. They could probably destroy us just by charging all at once._

Fortunately, they didn’t do that. I had seen it before, the Reaper creatures seeming reluctant to use their superior numbers. At least, they behaved that way when Shepard was on the field, as if the foot-soldiers sensed their masters’ unease with him.

Suddenly he seemed to go into overdrive, his corona blazing like a star, a massive _flare_ erupting ahead of him, then a flash-charge into the heart of the enemy formation. Cannibals scattered like debris in a storm, and then _crash-crash-crash,_ his Claymore barked as he cut down the survivors. The pressure on our position eased, and the rest of us hurried to follow.

It helped. At the top of the slope the field opened out, giving us a chance to shake out into a longer line and bring all our firepower to bear. The pace slowed, the din of combat subsided to tolerable levels, and we could begin to choose our targets.

Of course, the periodic blasts from the Hades cannon still made me want to run, screaming, and hide far away. Especially since every step brought us _closer_ to the damnable thing.

_“This is Captain Johnson. Hammer is getting torn apart. We need those cannons off-line now!”_

Shepard swore bitterly. His corona flared even brighter.

_Zip-BOOM. Zip-BOOM. Crash! Crash!_

All by himself, he turned into a biotic wrecking ball. I could not _believe_ the speed with which he repeated his flash-charge, slamming into targets of opportunity all across the Reaper line.

“Come on!” shouted Ashley, emerging from cover to charge into the fray. “That’s got to break them!”

All of us followed, forgetting the risk, forgetting the disorienting impact of the cannon’s repeated fire. We created a surge of blue-white and green-white biotic energy, crimson light from EDI’s incendiary charges, and gunfire from every weapon we had.

The Reapers withered, like chaff in a fire.

Even a lonely brute, lumbering onto the battlefield in the middle of our offensive, didn’t last very long. Once the cannibals and marauders around it had been dealt with, Shepard simply flash-charged it, _three times_ in rapid succession, dodging its vicious responses, while the rest of us concentrated our fire on the beast. It went down, leaving Shepard standing over its corpse, his hands on his knees, breathing hard.

_“Jesus,_ Skipper.” Ashley gaped at him in pure shock. “Save some for the rest of the fight!”

Shepard made a noise that might possibly have been considered a choked laugh. “I suppose you’re right, but we _are_ in a hurry.” He straightened up, looked around, and pointed. “I think the crash site is just up there.”

_“Damn it. You’ve got airborne hostiles inbound! Gonna try to keep ‘em off you!”_

All of us heard the roar of engines, above and behind us. Shepard turned sharply, shading his eyes, staring up into the darkness. “Careful, Cortez!”

_Normandy_ ’s shuttle soared overhead, two harvesters in hot pursuit, firing their cannons.

One of them hit. I saw an explosion against the engines. The Kodiak staggered and fell.

“Cortez! _Cortez!”_

The shuttle went down behind a row of buildings to the west. I saw a flare of crimson light, heard the roar of a violent explosion.

“Ah, _shit,”_ said Ashley.

“The shuttle is off-line,” said EDI quietly. “If I cannot contact its on-board transponder . . .”

“Yeah,” said Shepard, sounding as if he had taken a blow to the gut. “Come on. We’ve got to make sure it wasn’t for nothing.”

I followed him, my mind numb. I exchanged a look with Vara, saw the same dull hurt in her eyes as well. She and I had been on Ferris Fields together, the day we rescued Cortez from a Collector attack. We had both become fond of the man. We had relied on him, his skill and courage, to carry us to and extract us from a score of terrible battlefields. Gone now, and no time to mourn.

Suddenly, I realized that the pilot’s death might carry more than just emotional consequence for the rest of us.

_We’re in the middle of Reaper-held territory, twenty-five kilometers away from the real battlefield, and no one to get us there in time._

We crested a low hill, climbing into the shell of a destroyed building where the other shuttle had gone down. The Hades cannon stood very close, looming over the ruined structure. There we found more cannibals and marauders.

Shepard _massacred_ them.

No restraint. No apparent limits on his biotic strength, his physical speed, the firepower of his weapon. He disdained cover and simply _rolled_ over every Reaper creature in his path. The rest of us could only hurry to keep up, administering a final blow to any enemy who momentarily survived his passage.

A ravager close to the wrecked shuttle posed a somewhat harder problem, but Shepard soon pounded the creature into mush from a distance with biotic flares and incendiary grenades. Soon afterward we reached the wreck, formed a perimeter around it while Ashley searched for any surviving weapons.

“Hah!” she growled. “An M-920. _Two_ of them.”

“One should be enough,” said Shepard. “You may do the honors.”

“Gladly, Skipper.”

Too busy watching my quarter, I didn’t see her prepare or aim the weapon. I _did_ see its missile zoom off into the night, homing on some gap in the cannon’s armor.

“Everyone _get down!”_ shouted Ashley.

We dove for cover. Just in time for what felt like the end of the world.

When I dared look up again, the cannon was toppling in a _tremendous_ din of metal, falling to obliterate all that remained of a city block.

_“That’s it,”_ came a voice over the comm. _“Last gun down. Hammer is clear to proceed.”_

“Good to hear, Hammer,” said Shepard. “Now if anyone’s free, we just called ourselves to the attention of half the Reaper army, and we’ve lost our ride. _We need extraction.”_

A distant screech, and then a glowing blue-white form rose over a wall in the middle distance.

_Banshee_.

Half a hundred dark shapes heaved themselves over the same wall, following the twisted asari as it began to advance in our direction.

“ _Roger that. Hang on. We’re on the way.”_

“Oh Goddess oh Goddess . . .” Not me cursing, this time. Vara, who _hated_ banshees.

All of us began to lay down fire and throw telekinetic energy at the foe.

All except Ashley. Who stood in the open, disdaining the nearby cover, another heavy weapon held to her shoulder. One second, two seconds, three seconds . . .

The weapon barked, and a missile flew down-range.

I felt my eyes go wide, and I threw myself flat _again_ , reaching up with one hand to pull Vara down beside me.

The world ended again, in a blinding flash of light and a deafening concussion.

When all went quiet for a moment, Shepard glanced at Ashley, blinking in surprise. “Officer thinking, Commander.”

“Hey, we had a spare.”

The fight proved more feasible after that. Not easy, nothing ever seemed _easy_ on that last terrible day in the ruins of London, but the rest of us managed to survive it. Battered, some of us wounded, all of us already exhausted even after that _minor_ engagement, but we lost no one else.

_“Commander, we’re almost with you. Prepare for extraction.”_

I looked around, and saw another blue-and-white Alliance vehicle swooping down out of the sky, to hover a few meters away.

“Go for the shuttle!” shouted Shepard, turning to begin a fighting retreat.

“Come on!” shouted a voice from the shuttle. “We’ll cover you!”

All of us ran, cresting a low mound of rubble and leaping into the shuttle’s open hatch, Shepard last of us all.

“Get us out of here, Corporal,” ordered a human male in armor, wearing a major’s insignia. I glanced at his chest-plate and saw the name _COATS._ To my surprise I recognized the name: a soldier who had been in London the day the Reapers arrived, and had been a leader of the human resistance ever since.

“You okay?” he asked, turning to us.

“I’m alive,” said Shepard grimly. “Today, that feels like enough to be ahead of the game.”

“That it is, Commander,” came another voice, deep and familiar.

_David Anderson._

“Sir!” Shepard moved forward to take the admiral’s hand, and then pulled him into a quick masculine embrace. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Shepard. You’re sure a sight for sore eyes. I knew you wouldn’t let me down out there.”

Quickly, Shepard made introductions, since the admiral had not met some of us in person. Anderson gave Ashley a firm handshake, EDI and Vara quick nods of recognition, Javik a shallow bow of awed respect, and me a warm fatherly embrace. I hugged him back, loving him in that moment, tears threatening to start in my eyes at the gesture.

“How are we looking?” asked Shepard.

“Now that those guns are down, the rest of Hammer can land.”

“Not a moment too soon,” said Major Coats.

“He’s right,” said Anderson. “What’s left of the resistance has set up a Forward Operating Base in Westminster, but we’ve paid a terrible cost, and the Reapers have already started to counter. We need those troops to hold the perimeter and push the Reapers back.”

Shepard nodded. “It must have been brutal here, cut off from the rest of the Alliance.”

“It’s been touch-and-go from day one. But once we saw the Reapers concentrate on major urban centers, it became easier to avoid contact. We could move around, hinder their operations in the countryside, help people get to safety. For a while. Then the Reapers indoctrinated what’s left of the nation-state authorities, got them to order people to give up resistance, stop cooperating with the Alliance. Tough to run an insurgency when you can’t count on your own people.”

“Damn,” said Ashley. “Even if we win, Earth is going to be a real mess.”

“You’ve got that right, Commander. God only knows what kind of political system we’re going to be able to cobble together, even assuming we survive the Reapers. But that’s a worry for tomorrow, if we last that long. For right now, we have to worry about London.”

“We’ve been sending in scouts for days,” said Coats. “Lost a lot of men getting ready for this. But with leaders like Admiral Anderson, and knowing you were bringing the whole galaxy to help, we held on.”

“You did more than hold on,” said Shepard warmly. “Without you and your resistance, we’d be dead in the water.”

“Yeah. The Admiral’s being modest. He’s the only reason any of us are still alive.”

“Let’s not start handing out medals just yet,” said Anderson firmly. “This fight’s just getting started. I just hope Hammer is going to be ready for this.”

Shepard nodded. “They may not have started out together, but they’re ready to stand side by side now. In a couple of hours, we’ll have almost every race in the galaxy here in London, ready to do what needs to be done.”

“Good, because that’s what it’s gonna take.” Anderson put an arm around Shepard’s shoulders. “I know you didn’t like leaving, Shepard, but I hope you see now it was for the best. Nobody else could have accomplished what you and your team have, brought all those people together for this fight.”

Shepard only nodded, catching my eye for a quick but intense look.

“There’s the FOB,” said Coats, watching the external view.

“Good,” said Anderson. “Give Hammer the all-clear. We’ve got a pile of work to do, to get all those boots on the ground and organized for the attack.”

* * *

**_22 June 2186, Forward Operating Base, Westminster, London/Earth V minus 1 hour, 30 minutes_ **

It took well over an hour for Hammer to land, organize, send out scouts and gather intelligence. Shepard and Anderson seemed inseparable for all that time, working feverishly to adjust the final battle plan.

I wasn’t of much use in that endeavor. No one needed the kind of strategic or political intelligence that the Shadow Broker could provide. So instead I gave my trace to Shepard, so he could call me for the last effort. Then I found a field hospital, and Vara and I went to work. I wasn’t a trained physician any more than I was a trained soldier, but first aid and triage care fell within my scope. Vara, of course, had some medical training as part of her huntress background.

We found a _lot_ of wounded and dead in that hospital, and the main assault hadn’t even begun.

I lost track of time, tried not to think about anything outside our work area. Tried not to think about Cortez, about everyone else we had already lost, or were about to lose. It worked. For once I didn’t even notice as Shepard walked up to me.

“How are the casualties?” he asked gently.

I glanced up at him, saw weary sadness in his face. “We’ve lost a lot of people. Hammer took almost forty percent casualties before it could even fully deploy.”

“That’s about right.” He sighed. “Scratch another one off our list of friends. Zaeed Massani’s company got wiped out in northern France, attacking an outlying Reaper strongpoint. He hasn’t been heard from since.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “I always thought that man could survive anything.”

“Apparently not.” He stepped close, put his arm around my shoulders. “Hammer is ready to fight now, but the Reapers are closing in. We’re going to have to move very soon.”

“I see. Vara and I will come, of course.”

“How are _you_ holding up, Liara?”

My mind was a chaos. I wanted to rage, scream, break down in tears. I did none of those things.

“This is it . . . isn’t it?” I whispered.

“Yeah,” he breathed, resting his cheek against my crest. “I think it is.”

“I don’t know what to say.” I chuckled once, almost a gasp. “All those little blue children will be disappointed I didn’t have a speech.”

I could sense his smile. “We’ll make up a good story for them.”

“Shepard . . .”

“Shhh.” Then he held me in his arms, let me rest my head on his chest, and simply stood there for a long moment. Enjoying the animal pleasure of a loved one’s presence.

I looked up, caressed his stubble-rough cheek, and smelled the scent of his breath.

Sent my mind across that touch, not demanding, simply inviting.

He agreed, and our minds merged for the last time. Not a deep, ravishing merger as had so often happened in our bed. A gentler thing, a shared taste of what we felt.

On my part: fatigue, revulsion for what the Reapers had done, more than a little hatred for them. Terror, not for what might happen to me, but for what waited for _him_. And as always: admiration, desire, love.

On his part: bone-deep weariness, and a stress that I knew had been growing for weeks. Fear that nothing he could do would defeat the Reapers. Fear that in the end, he would let the entire galaxy down. On the other hand, strength, determination fueled by a terrible rage at the Reapers and all their works. And as always: deep respect, tenderness, passion, love.

Love, unconquerable.

I kissed him, a long and gentle thing, imprinting every sensation on my memory for all time.

Then I let him go.

“It’s time,” he said, and Vara and I followed him to the final conference. The final battle.


	56. Advance

**_22 June 2186, Westminster, London/Earth V minus 1 hour, 15 minutes_ **

Urban warfare is a horrible thing.

Let me provide an example. From the Forward Operating Base to the Reaper facility in Trafalgar Square, the distance was less than two kilometers. It took Hammer almost an hour to move that short distance, against stiff Reaper resistance the whole way.

It also cost Hammer close to _ninety percent_ wounded and dead.

I had heard reports of such battles ever since the Reapers first arrived, especially from Earth and Palaven. That was the first time I had to live through one. There is a reason I have rarely spoken about that terrible day. Four hundred years later, I still find myself flinching from unexpected sights or sounds, and I still have the occasional bad night.

We started in Westminster: Shepard, Ashley, James, six more Marines from the _Normandy_ detachment, EDI’s mobile platform, Javik, Vara, and me. Garrus, Tali, and Miranda remained behind once more, more valuable in staff positions than on the field. Shepard almost made the same determination for me, but I pointed out that one of my acolytes could manage what little remained of the Shadow Broker network for the next few hours. In any case, I insisted that _he would not leave me behind_.

It began easily enough, Hammer unrolling from the FOB and immediately smashing through a horde of husks. Our own team went right behind the first wave, entering a no-man’s-land of smashed buildings and empty streets. Once the last husks went down, we found ourselves engaging squads of cannibals led by once-turian marauders. Not a great challenge. We moved forward, taking no losses at first.

“ _All companies report in.”_

“ _Artillery companies Able through Foxtrot are on the move.”_

“ _Roger that. Golf through November taking up the right flank. Pressing forward.”_

At one point we moved beside an AFV, providing infantry support. The first sign of trouble came when some kind of rocket zoomed out of the darkness ahead, slamming into the tank and setting it on fire.

“Cannibals!” shouted James, moving his men into cover.

A wave of the mutated batarians erupted out of the ruins ahead, laying down a terrible barrage of weapons fire.

“Keep your cool,” said Shepard, using biotics to telekinetically yank the enemy out of cover two at a time, picking them off with his sidearm.

One of our Marines went down, her shoulder smashed by an incoming projectile after her kinetic barrier failed. James activated her medi-gel and her search-and-rescue transponder, so the troops behind us could get her to safety.

We moved forward.

“ _Anyone know how the hell we’re supposed to take down a Reaper destroyer with tanks?”_

“ _Thanix missiles can do a fuckton of damage.”_

“ _If you say so.”_

“ _Cut the chatter,”_ ordered Coats. _“You heard the Admiral. No retreat.”_

Our armor seemed to be having trouble advancing through the London streets. More than once Shepard moved to intervene as an AFV got stuck in a narrow passage, choked with debris, and then came under fire.

We lost two more Marines, killed when a harvester swept down out of the night sky, hammering at a trapped AFV and catching part of our team in the open. The rest of us took cover and fired back at the monster, trying to catch its vulnerable head in our fire.

Before long the harvester twisted, fell, and detonated in a flash of light and heat.

Just in time for a banshee to rise over some debris, screaming, with a small horde of cannibals in its wake.

“ _We’re taking heavy fire from the second story of the building at grid Bravo-Six. Request assistance.”_

“Roger that,” said Shepard, taking a moment to check his HUD maps while he continued to fling biotic _flares_ at the approaching banshee. “We’re almost there, we’ll try to clear the building for you. Hang on.”

Ashley and I exchanged a quick glance.

_Just like Shepard, to promise aid when we’re under heavy attack ourselves._

I need not have worried. He concentrated our fire on the banshee, taking it down long before it could reach our position. After that, the cannibals provided no more challenge than usual.

“ _Foxtrot and Bravo are taking heavy fire.”_

We crossed the street we had just cleared, finding a ground-level entrance to the building where Reaper forces had set up a stronghold. Inside we found a vehicle garage, a number of aircars that looked as if they had been abandoned for months.

We found husks. They went down quickly.

Then two brutes came out of nowhere and charged into the middle of our formation. One of them caught a Marine off-guard and smashed him to pulp with a single blow.

I barely avoided having my head taken off by a vicious claw-swing. I ducked, rolled under the blow, set off a biotic detonation that rocked the brute back a few centimeters. Then Ashley and Shepard hit it simultaneously from both sides, and it went down.

I looked around and saw James finish the second brute with a shotgun blast at point-blank range. Then I saw the burly human was hurt. Blood ran down his face from a nasty scalp wound, he seemed to be favoring his left arm, and his kinetic barrier flickered wildly.

“I’m okay, I’m okay. Just give me a second.”

EDI manipulated his armor controls. His barriers went back up.

“His armor needs extensive repair,” she said after a moment. “I cannot guarantee the barrier will hold.”

“Fuck that,” said the lieutenant. “I can still fight.”

Shepard gave him a grim nod. “Come on, soldier.”

We climbed out of the garage, up into the first and then the second story of the building. Around a corner, we found the Reaper stronghold: marauders firing cannon down into the street outside, a ravager pouring its own fire in the same direction, a few cannibals for support.

“ _Charlie Company’s been taken out.”_

Shepard motioned: one, two, _three._

We boiled into the room, filling it with gunfire and green-blue-white chaos. The odds seemed in our favor. Not even the ravager managed to turn and fire on us, before we reduced it to a noxious stain on the floor.

“You’re clear!” called Shepard to the Hammer companies in the street below.

“ _Thanks. We’re moving again.”_

The battle seemed to change from that point. We had crossed the beaten-down territory, and now moved among buildings the Reapers had – more or less – permitted to remain standing. This was the old government district for the nation-state called the United Kingdom. Once a mighty empire had been ruled from this spot. Now nothing remained but ruins.

“ _This is Echo Company. There’s not enough room to maneuver the tanks in here.”_

“ _Backtrack if you have to, but find another route ASAP.”_

“ _Acknowledged.”_

We came out on a narrow street, two tanks already pinned down and destroyed, Reaper forces swarming on both sides. A lone ravager held a high point up ahead, firing down into the street at targets of opportunity. A difficult fight in tight quarters. Another Marine lost. Javik took an injury when a marauder popped up and riddled him with gunfire before he could move to better cover.

“ _Contact! This is Delta, we’re being overrun!”_

“ _What’s your location?”_ demanded Coats.

We heard nothing but a strangled scream.

“ _Goddamn it.”_

Eight of us left. We found no way to move forward in the streets, but a ruined shop appeared to provide a way around the obstacle. We found a few cannibals occupying the place, and destroyed them almost in passing.

“ _Able Company’s broken through. Christ, that destroyer is huge.”_

“ _Hold your position,”_ ordered Coats. _“The rest of Hammer is on the way.”_

We had to fight our way across an intersection, the center of the space occupied by a great crater where some explosion had taken place. Another empty shop served as a Reaper strongpoint, but its shattered windows opened on two sides. Shepard maneuvered us up to both windows, to catch the marauders in crossfire.

Again we found no way to proceed in the streets. We moved through the building we had just cleared, into an abandoned restaurant in the back. Ducking behind counters and tables, moving forward by odds and evens, we made our way through.

“ _The destroyer’s spotted us. We’re prepping Thanix missiles.”_

“ _Hold your fire. You won’t do anything but piss it off.”_

“ _Roger that, but we may have no choice.”_

“ _Understood.”_

We cleared the restaurant, emerged into an alley behind the buildings. The alley seemed less cluttered with debris, and no enemies were present for the moment. We could move forward with more ease.

“ _Destroyer just took out half our company. Firing remaining missiles.”_

A short pause, then Coats asked: _“Any effect?”_

“ _Negative. Can’t get a lock. Some kind of interference. It’s messing with our guidance.”_

“ _We’re almost there, Able. Hang on.”_

“We’ve got to hurry,” muttered Ashley.

“Not if it causes us to rush,” said Shepard. “Stay frosty. Watch your quarters.”

“ _We’re at the rendezvous point,”_ said Coats. _“All Hammer companies, report in.”_

“ _Alpha and Delta companies have sustained heavy casualties. No word from Bravo or Charlie. Echo, Foxtrot, and India are here, but are severely damaged. Lost contact with Golf.”_

“ _All companies, prep Thanix missiles. Be ready for a coordinated volley.”_

“ _How are we supposed to take that thing down?”_

“ _We wait for it to get close, and then we hit it with everything we’ve got.”_

“ _I dunno. Our guidance systems are buggered.”_

“ _Roger that. Our engineers are on it.”_

“ _Think it’s got something to do with the beam.”_

We probably should not have kept the general comm channel open. It distracted us from watching for an ambush. Of course, none of us expected an ambush to arrive _through_ the thick stone walls of the buildings on either side.

A bestial roar. The sound of shattering stone.

“ _Brutes!”_ I screamed.

They already raged in the middle of our formation.

“Fall back. Fall back!” shouted Shepard.

Too late. Most of us managed to disengage and perform a frantic fighting retreat back up our alley. For a fatal instant, Vara went the wrong way. She jumped ahead of me the moment the brutes appeared, moving on sheer reflex, trying to place herself between the threat and her principal.

One of the brutes _grabbed_ her.

I heard a moment’s scream, and then it _smashed_ her through the stone wall on one side.

“ _Vara!”_

Just like that, I went incandescent with fury. My corona lashed out, hammered at the brute, then again, rocking it back on its heels.

The rest of the team put down a storm of gunfire, grenades, and incendiary charges. Shepard flash-charged the beast, then flash-charged the other brutes when the first went down.

Suddenly I felt as terrified for him as for Vara. I sprinted forward, my sidearm forgotten, flinging warps with both hands as quickly as my mind could cycle through them.

The last brute turned and stared at me. It rose on its haunches, beating its breast with both claws, and then set itself to charge.

_Wait a moment, Liara. What happens when a brute charges a slender asari like you?_

_You break, that’s what._

It hurled itself into motion. Straight at me.

I slammed down my strongest barrier.

Then a flash of light cannoned into its side, Shepard in a fierce flash-charge, and it lost its momentum.

A moment later, it went down, its turian head nearly torn from its krogan shoulders.

I whirled, ran for the gap in the stone wall where Vara had vanished.

To my horror, I didn’t find a simple room or chamber behind it. The building on that side had been reduced to a mere shell. Most of it had collapsed into its own basement level, or perhaps into some under-works far below the street level. I saw nothing but a deep pit, full of rubble, and no sign at all of where my acolyte had gone.

“ _Vara!”_

Then Shepard stood at my back, shining a light into the gap and down into the pit. He moved it back and forth, looking for displaced stone, dust still in the air, any clue at all. Neither of us could see anything.

“ _They’re sending in more ground forces!”_

“ _They’re coming in behind us.”_

“ _They coming from everywhere! They’re going for the tanks!”_

“ _Protect the tanks at all costs!”_ Coats ordered. _“Without those missiles we’ve got no chance!”_

“Liara.”

I turned, stared into his face with wide eyes, and he went a little pale.

“Where is she, Shepard?” I could hear panic in my own voice.

“I don’t know, Liara.” He put a gentle hand on my shoulder. “We’ve got to go.”

I gaped at him, and then something in his voice got through to me. “Oh _damn_. Yes. I understand.”

We hurried.

We emerged out onto the intersection of Whitehall and Downing Street, not far from the ancient dwelling-place of the British prime ministers, and there we found chaos.

Two Thanix missile trucks remained in the intersection, pointing north to where a Reaper destroyer defended Trafalgar Square from our forces. I could see the destroyer in the distance, moving violently, firing its weapon and smashing its legs down on unseen foes. Behind it the Reaper transport beam rose up into the sky.

We had arrived just in time to see the last of the Hammer artillery forces cut down by Reaper troops.

Shepard roared and charged out into the intersection, leading the rest of us out to rescue the last few soldiers. To no avail. By the time we destroyed the Reaper squads in the square, the last artillerymen were dead.

Shepard shook his head in grim disgust, and called Major Coats. “Major? We’ve just reached the last of the artillery. Two of the trucks are still here, but everyone is dead. What’s the situation?”

“ _That damn beam’s interfering with missile guidance. We can hit the destroyer. Hell, we’ve already hit it more than once. We can’t get the precision strike we need to take it out.”_

“Damn it. EDI, any suggestions?”

“Yes, Commander. I may be able to use _Normandy_ ’s systems to enhance targeting.”

“I don’t have any better ideas. Get on it.”

EDI moved to the nearest missile truck and began to work with a control panel on one side.

“I don’t like this, Skipper.” Ashley looked around. “We’re too exposed here. Not enough cover. If the Reapers punch through our forces on the flanks . . .”

“Right. EDI, time is of the essence.”

“Understood. I have set up a link to my systems aboard _Normandy_. It will take a few moments to adapt the missile’s targeting systems. We must defend the battery until then.”

Shepard nodded, glanced around quickly, and then made his dispositions. The seven of us formed a perimeter around the missile trucks, and waited for an enemy to appear.

We didn’t have to wait long.

“ _Hammer. This is Admiral Anderson. Reaper ground forces are making a push. Hold your ground. Protect those tanks until we can get a shot.”_

They came from the north, from the direction where the Reaper destroyer still fought another section of Hammer. Cannibals. Marauders. Many of them.

Shepard shifted us to new cover, where we hunkered down and pounded everything we saw in that direction. It took about a minute, and then the pressure had gone.

“So far, so good,” muttered Ashley.

“ _Rrrh._ Do not become overconfident, Commander.”

Javik was right.

Another call to Shepard’s helmet comm, this time from the Hammer companies to the west. _“Commander, we tried to hold them off, but they destroyed our trucks, overwhelmed our position. Your left flank is gone, and they’re headed your way. Sorry, sir.”_

“Hang in there, soldier,” Shepard answered. “Heads up! We’ve got incoming!”

The second wave appeared over a mountain of debris on Downing Street, at least a platoon of cannibals and marauders, with _two_ banshees flash-charging in on their flanks.

Shepard shifted our position once again, to face the onrushing threat.

For once, the Reaper creatures did not hesitate. They charged us, heedless of their losses, the banshees providing support with bursts of biotic fire. Ten of them went down, then twenty, and it wasn’t enough.

“Fall back!” shouted Shepard. “By the numbers, covering fire!”

The last of the Marines – I think it was a young man named Corporal Reyes – disappeared under a swarm of cannibals. His screams echoed in our ears as we did our best to retreat in good order. Then, nothing but silence.

“ _Damn_ it!” swore James, exposing himself for an instant to hammer the heaving mound of cancerous flesh with his rifle.

Then we found new cover, far enough back that the enemy couldn’t simply overwhelm us. Shepard directed our fire against one of the banshees, then the other. A few moments of ambush and biotic exertion, and the enemy went down once more.

Six of us gathered in the middle of the intersection.

“EDI?”

“Yes, Commander. I have completed reprogramming of the missile guidance. Missiles are ready for launch.”

“Best news I’ve heard all day.”

Shepard hurried over to the truck, touched the controls. With a twin flare of rocket exhaust, two missiles leaped into the air, roaring away up Whitehall.

Careening in two completely useless directions, to explode against nothing of importance.

“ _Damn it!”_

“We’ve only got two more missiles,” said Ashley.

“The Reaper is still too close to the beam,” said EDI. “We must encourage it to move away.”

“Which brings it closer to _us.”_

“No thresher maws to throw at this one, either,” I muttered.

“ _Commander.”_ Anderson’s voice on the comm. _“Bad news. Hammer forces are being overrun at every turn. You’ve got another wave coming at you from all sides.”_

“Holy _shit,”_ rumbled James.

“Hang on, everyone,” said Shepard, for once permitting a little fear to show in his voice. “We can do this.”

We deployed in a perimeter around the last missile truck, and then we waited. Hoping that the next wave would come at us from one side as before.

No such luck.

The next wave arrived within moments, and it came from all four sides of the intersection at once.

Brutes. _Six_ of them.

Shepard proved nearly inspired, that uncanny situational awareness somehow keeping track of each of the slow-moving beasts. He pulled us this way, then that way, attacking each brute in turn from a distance, never permitting any of them to come close enough for a charge. One went down, then two, then three. Each dead brute made it that much easier for our squad to avoid the ones that remained.

All the while, the Reaper itself came ambling down Whitehall, coming to crush the source of the missiles that had attracted its ire. Its crimson beam began to rip at the surrounding buildings, sending masonry crashing down into the street. Sometimes it raked the street itself. Had any of us been exposed, it would have killed us at once.

The final brute went down with a roar.

We had about three seconds to congratulate ourselves. Then a harvester landed in the middle of the intersection, and almost killed the lot of us.

Half of us broke one way. Half of us broke the other way. Shepard’s careful deployment of his squad fell apart.

Suddenly all of us had to fight for our lives as individuals, diving for any cover we could find, firing at targets of opportunity. Somehow I managed to stay close to Ashley, and the two of us watched each other’s backs, but it seemed small comfort. Especially when the final wave rolled in from all sides, a small horde of the lesser Reaper creatures, and at least _four_ banshees.

Run, hide, realize the Reaper’s main gun just fired a few meters over your head, listen for the banshee screams, try not to remember that they sometimes advanced in silence. Fire at the cannibal in front of you, realize that another one almost leaped on your back, only Ashley killed it with her rifle. A cluster of enemy troops rushing close, incendiary grenade from Ashley, singularity and warp from you, so fast you’re not sure _how_ you did it . . .

James Vega, firing from a moment’s cover at a squad of cannibals, not realizing that a banshee had crept up behind him. His half-repaired kinetic barriers going down, an instant before the creature tore his head from his shoulders in a fountain of gore.

Suddenly we heard a roll of what sounded like thunder, a glare of blue-white detonations that came so close together they almost made a single sound. It went on for second after second.

Shepard, using every biotic feat he could manage with _incredible_ rapidity, to attack the Reaper’s forces and signal his location to the rest of us.

We all ran for the sound of the guns.

EDI had stayed with him somehow, Javik leaped down from a nearby vantage point, then Ashley and I pelted up at a dead run.

“Where’s James?” he demanded, relaxing his corona for an instant.

I caught his eye and shook my head.

“Come on. EDI says the Reaper is close enough.”

I glanced over my shoulder, and yes, the thing _loomed_ over the intersection, almost ready to “look” down at us with its main gun. Fortunately it seemed as near-sighted as most of its kind, still determined to stamp us out by tearing down the façades of the buildings on every side.

We hurried over toward the last missile truck, all of us watching our quarters, horribly aware that at least two banshees remained active out there. They must have been searching for us in the wrong place. Shepard reached the control panel.

“ _Firing.”_

The last two missiles flew, appearing to weave around one of the Reaper’s crimson beams, rising, rising, then _diving_ down just as the thing tried to slam its firing chamber shut.

An instant too late.

A detonation like the fall of a whole world, a tremendous gout of flames coming from _inside_ the Reaper.

“Shepard to all remaining Hammer units. The Reaper has taken a hit. Repeat, the Reaper has taken a hit. Throw everything you can at it!”

Had all of Hammer survived to that point, we would have seen a cyclone of weapons fire rise against the Reaper. What we saw instead was impressive enough, and sufficient to our ends.

The Reaper tottered, swayed, and went down, crushing a few venerable buildings under its vast bulk. Our path to the transport beam finally stood open.


	57. Final Assault

**_22 June 2186, Near Trafalgar Square, London/Earth V minus 25 minutes_ **

“Shepard, over here!” Admiral Anderson called, as he climbed out of an armored vehicle just entering the intersection where we had fought. “Thank God you made it.”

Shepard glanced at me. I wiped blood, sweat, and grime off my face, and wondered if I looked any better than he did.

“It was a tough fight,” Shepard said at last.

“Casualties?”

“Most of _Normandy_ ’s Marines. Lieutenant Vega. Liara’s acolyte Vara is missing, probably dead.”

“Damn.” Anderson took a deep breath, giving both of us a somber glance. “I’m afraid it gets worse.”

“Of _course_ it does,” Shepard muttered.

“Hackett’s just called in. The Reapers have reinforcements in space. Another twenty or so _Sovereign_ -class ships arrived while we made our push down here. Including _Harbinger_.”

“Hmm. They’re getting serious, if the oldest Reaper of them all is taking a hand.”

“Too right. The Reapers are starting to test our perimeter around the Citadel. Hackett doesn’t think it will be long before they try a full-scale counterattack. Meanwhile some of them have turned for Earth. Probably to respond to what we’ve accomplished here.”

“Then we had better get the job done now,” Shepard said. “How much of Hammer is ready to make the final attack?”

“I have some forces out to keep the Reapers off our flanks and out of the FOB. The rest will be here in a few minutes.” Anderson shrugged. “We still have an opportunity for Hackett to get the Crucible in place. But we have to get a team on board the Citadel to open those arms _now_.”

Major Coats shook his head wearily. “We still don’t even know what we’ll find when we _get_ to the Citadel.”

Shepard folded his arms and looked resolute. “Major, I don’t think it matters. This is the only chance we have. We either get boots on the Citadel and open those arms now, or the Reapers take us apart in detail.”

Anderson nodded. “I don’t like it, Shepard, but I think you’re right. I don’t even think we can wait for the rest of Hammer to get here.”

“Then with all due respect, Admiral, what are we waiting for?”

“Nothing at all. Saddle up, everybody.”

Anderson turned away to contact Hackett and call for the Crucible. Shepard turned back to us, gathering what was left of his team together.

Shepard, Ashley, Javik, EDI, and me, all of us already battered and wounded. No one else from _Normandy_ had made it this far. It didn’t seem like enough. At least Garrus, Tali, and Miranda were all back aboard, busy with their staff work, and safe. Relatively speaking.

“No speeches,” said Shepard at last. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m too damned tired. Let’s just load up and get the job done.”

“You got it, Skipper.”

 _“Rrrh._ Yes, Commander.”

EDI and I only nodded in determination.

Shepard opened his comm. _“Normandy,_ this is Shepard.”

“ _You’re five by five, Commander,”_ said Joker.

“We’re about to make our final push to the Reaper beam. I want you down here over London for close air support, and ready to extract anyone who needs it.”

“ _Roger that. We’ll be there in two minutes.”_

He glanced at all of us, a wordless command. We climbed into the Admiral’s AFV for the last advance.

Anderson joined us soon afterward, with Coats just behind him to close the hatch and signal the driver to proceed.

“Hackett says the Crucible is on the move,” said the admiral. “Should be here and ready to dock with the Citadel in just a few minutes.”

“Does he think he can keep the Reapers at bay long enough?” asked Shepard.

“He wouldn’t say. You know Hackett, he doesn’t like to make promises he isn’t sure he can keep. But there’s no one I’d rather have in charge out there. If he can’t do it, nobody else in the galaxy can.”

Shepard nodded. I found myself in agreement.

Anderson smiled with gallows humor. “At least from here on in, it’s a straight shot to the beam.”

“A straight shot, with Reapers trying to crush us along the way,” said Coats.

“We just need to get a handful of troops through.”

“Is _that_ all?” muttered Javik.

Anderson shrugged. “We knew this was going to be a gamble at best.”

“We’ve overcome every obstacle so far,” said Shepard wearily. “I think my team and I have one more victory in us.”

“We’re in sight of the target,” said Coats, watching the external view.

Anderson nodded. “All right, everyone. This is it . . .”

 _Crash!_ The Mako struck an obstacle – or was struck by hostile fire – and jolted to a stop.

Coats immediately slammed the side hatch open and climbed out. The rest of us followed.

We had stopped less than half a kilometer from the Reaper installation. From our position, we had nothing but a short broken-field run across some debris, and then down the long slope to the transport beam. I could see Reaper forces massing in our path, not yet in great numbers. It looked doable.

Then a _horn_ sounded, vast and terrible, echoing from horizon to horizon.

I looked up, just in time to see _Harbinger_ descend from the heavens.

Huge and black, larger than any other Reaper we had ever seen, its six tentacle-like limbs spread wide, and its cluster of “eyes” glowed hot with malice. It slammed to the ground on the far side of the Reaper facility, the shock enough to throw some of us off our feet and bring more debris down from the ruined buildings around us.

 _“Shit!”_ Anderson cursed. “We gotta move!”

“Come on!” shouted Shepard, surging into a lumbering run.

All of us who remained followed him.

“Hammer squads, go go _go!”_ shouted Anderson.

We ran, and fought, and ran some more. No thought for tactics, no thought even for staying together in a group, nothing but a terrifying final sprint. I fired my sidearm and threw biotics against those Reaper creatures who stood in my way. Other squads from Hammer fell in beside us, around us, all running for the same goal. Armored vehicles lumbered out onto the slope to support the charging infantry.

The Reaper creatures laid down fire in response. Our people fell on all sides. Even some of the AFVs took direct hits and fell behind, crippled.

Then _Harbinger_ began to apply its main gun.

An ordinary Reaper on the ground could be horribly effective. _Harbinger_ was an order of magnitude worse. It fired every second or two, far faster than most Reapers were able, every blast accompanied by a huge musical tone. It seemed like an angry god playing an enormous pipe organ, every note smashing an armored vehicle or vaporizing a squad.

Horrible noise, eruptions of crimson light, the ground itself shaking as if in earthquake. My senses overloaded. I couldn’t tell what was going on around me. Only that Hammer was dying, like a swarm of insects in a bonfire, but I remained on my feet and could still move in the right direction.

I saw EDI’s mobile platform caught in a great explosion, wreathed in flame, hurled backward in a whirl of broken limbs, to smash on the ground and lie still.

I saw Javik look up, his eyes wide with absolute rage, his mouth gaping open, catching _Harbinger_ ’s gaze in the instant before a shard of metal caught him in mid-torso and nailed him to the ground.

I glimpsed Shepard’s back, a dozen paces ahead, still charging forward, and I followed him.

Then my turn came.

 _Harbinger_ caught another Mako about ten meters ahead of me. It flew up into the air, already belching flames – Shepard ducking and rolling _under_ the wreck as it passed him – and then came down directly in front of me. I didn’t have time to dodge, or find cover, or do anything but slam down a barrier in the instant before it exploded.

_Pain. Shock. Darkness._

Then my mind rebooted, my senses came back to life, and I realized I was not yet dead. Although I hurt so badly I felt quite sure I was _about_ to die. I mewled, like a mortally wounded beast.

Then I felt strong hands, a shoulder under my arm, a few shaky steps to cover behind another wrecked vehicle. The din of the battle receded a little.

I looked to see who had rescued me. First I saw Ashley, favoring one arm, her face absolutely _covered_ with blood, her eyes wide and dull with shock. She must have been close by, hit by a fringe of the same explosion.

Then I saw Shepard, crouching beside us, making a comm call. _“Normandy,_ do you copy? I need an evac, right now!”

 _“It’s pretty damn hot up here, Commander.”_ A pause. _“Okay, we’re clear. On our way.”_

The sensation of medi-gel on my wounds, cool and numbing. I hesitantly touched my face with one hand, and brought my fingers away covered with indigo.

“How bad?” I managed to rasp.

Shepard looked into my eyes for a moment, and said nothing. Still, I knew how to read that ice-blue stare.

_It must look very bad indeed._

Then he put his shoulder under my arm again, lifted me to my feet like a sack of meal, and we stumbled out from behind cover. “Come on.”

I blinked. Ahead of us I could see Ashley staggering up a ramp. The staging bay ramp aboard _Normandy_. Marines stood to either side, laying down covering fire.

“Here,” gasped Shepard. “Take her.”

I felt myself being transferred to someone else’s grasp.

Then it struck me, like a bolt of lightning.

_He’s making sure you’re safe, so he can charge off and take the risk._

I began to struggle feebly. “No. No!”

Ashley tried to restrain me. I fear I elbowed her in the face, got free just enough to turn in her grasp.

“Shepard!”

He stood there, still on the ground, still not badly hurt, making no attempt to climb aboard the ship. “You’ve gotta get out of here!”

“I’m all right, Shepard.”

He shook his head, trying to reason with the insane asari. “Don’t argue with me, Liara!”

_“You’re not leaving me behind!”_

He stopped. Strode closer, so that he could reach out and touch my face with infinite gentleness. For that one instant the pain vanished, the din and confusion of the battle seemed to recede, even Ashley’s grip on me faded away. Nothing existed in the universe except his face.

“No matter what happens, you mean everything to me, Liara. You always will.”

“Shepard, I . . . I am yours.”

He glanced over his shoulder, an instant’s evaluation of the progress of the battle. When he turned back, his face was set in determined lines once more.

“Go!”

He turned and ran back to the final battle, ran for the beam, left _Normandy_ and Ashley and me behind.

The last few Marines climbed back into the ship. The staging bay ramp closed. I felt the deck move beneath my feet, the ship rising into the air. I half-expected a beam from _Harbinger_ to cut us down, but it never happened. _Normandy_ soared into the upper air, climbing for space.

* * *

**_22 June 2186, Earth Orbital Space V minus 15 minutes_ **

“Liara, we need to get you to the medical bay.” Ashley’s voice sounded gentle but firm.

“No,” I whispered, and then some burst of strength stiffened my spine. “No. Take me to the bridge.”

“Liara . . .”

I pulled away slightly, stared at her. “Are _you_ going to the medical bay?”

“No. I can’t. I’m in command until Shepard comes back.”

“Then neither am I. Not as long as he’s still down there and in danger.”

Ashley stared at me, and for a moment we understood each other perfectly.

“The bridge it is.”

Ashley had to stay in the CIC, but she handed me off to a burly Navy technician, who helped me up the corridor and onto the bridge. I half-collapsed into the co-pilot’s seat, EDI’s usual seat, and then I remembered. I glanced over at Joker, whose eyes widened when he glanced at me. Once more I had to wonder what I looked like.

“Joker. I’m so sorry . . .”

 _“I am in good condition, Doctor,”_ said EDI, over the bridge comms.

I blinked.

“Her mobile platform got banged up, sure, but most of her is here in the ship,” said Joker. “If we all get out of this alive, she thinks her platform can be fixed. Or she can have a new one built. She’s got all the schematics for it.”

“Of course,” I breathed. “EDI, give me a simplified tactical plot and a line to the general fleet channels.”

“ _Right away, Doctor.”_

 _Normandy_ soared up into the bright sunlight of space.

I heard voices over the comm, and listened for any clue as to events back in London.

I soon heard news. Very bad news.

Major Coats: _“God. They’re . . . they’re all gone.”_

A female voice I didn’t recognize, perhaps a Marine officer: _“Did we get anyone to the beam?”_

Coats: _“Negative. Our entire force was eliminated.”_

_Oh no._

Coats: _“It’s too much! We need to regroup. Fall back to the buildings . . .”_

The female voice: _“Hammer’s wiped out. All forces, retreat back to the FOB. Pull back. Pull back!”_

I glanced at the tactical plot, saw the Crucible and the Shield fleet as they arrived in near-Earth space. Shield immediately hurled itself into the battle, working with Sword to keep the space around the Crucible and the Citadel free of Reapers. For the moment, they seemed successful.

Then a phalanx of Reapers rose from Earth’s surface. I glanced at the icons, saw that one of them carried a label.

I felt black despair.

_Hammer has failed. Nobody will get to the Citadel to open the ward arms. The Crucible is useless._

_This is how it begins. Extinction._

Somehow I couldn’t bring myself to care. I sat there, my body full of dull sawing pain, indigo blood dripping on the deck beneath me, and let the knowledge sink in.

_Shepard is gone._

_The rest of us won’t be far behind him._

Then Dr. Chakwas appeared on the bridge, hurrying over to me with her medical instruments and a generous helping of medi-gel. I opened my mouth to bark at her, but she forestalled me. “Commander Williams gave me my marching orders. I won’t insist you come back with me unless your condition is too grave to permit you to stay here.”

I nodded, and went back to listening to the comms. I shut out the doctor’s ministrations, shut out Joker’s increasingly desperate attempts to keep _Normandy_ alive in the battle, and listened.

Thus I heard Admiral Hackett when he spoke, his usually stern voice full of wonder.

“ _Holy shit,”_ he said quietly to all the listening fleets. _“He did it.”_

I looked out the viewport, saw the Citadel catching the sunlight a hundred or so kilometers away, and somehow I _knew_.

_He is not dead. Not yet._

“ _This is Hackett,”_ the admiral barked. _“We’ve got reports that someone made it to the Citadel. We need to give them time to get those arms open. All fleets, converge on the Crucible. Protect it at all costs.”_

A minute passed. Then two.

I could hear reports from the remnants of Hammer down on the ground, fighting desperately as Reaper forces converged from all directions. Major Coats tried to organize another attack on the beam, but it didn’t sound as if he had much luck.

Three minutes.

The allied fleets in space formed an interdiction perimeter around the Citadel and the Crucible. Stood side by side – asari, salarians, turians, humans, quarians, geth, rachni, every race of the Accord – to hold off the darkness for just a few moments longer.

Four minutes.

The flare of explosions in deep space, as ship after ship met her end.

“Neema _destroyed,”_ came Samantha’s voice from the CIC, utterly weary, so unlike her usual warm tones. “Geth Dreadnought One-Seven _destroyed.”_

Five minutes. Six.

Then it happened. The color of the Citadel’s icon on the tactical plot shifted, from red to blue.

“ _That’s it! The ward arms are opening!”_ Hackett’s voice filled with tension, as he saw the opportunity appear for which he had barely let himself hope. _“All ships, escort the Crucible to dock. Just a few more seconds!”_

 _Normandy_ swept close to the Citadel on one pass. I looked out the viewports.

The Citadel looked . . . strange. The ward arms had opened, true, but they had opened _much_ further than I had ever seen before. Instead of stopping in their normal almost-parallel position, they kept moving, the whole station opening up like a flower in springtime.

The Crucible decelerated to its final position, clamped to the Presidium ring, just barely touching the Council Tower from beneath. The ward arms spread to their maximum extent, the whole station forming a great five-pointed star.

Suddenly, the whole assembly _looked_ exactly like a vast communications device, an antenna designed to transmit a signal across the entire galaxy.

“ _That’s it. The Crucible is docked!”_

I waited.

Nothing happened.

Seven minutes. Eight.

“Irune _destroyed._ Sheguntai _destroyed.”_

I closed my eyes for a moment, flinching at the thought of Feron and all his people, wiped out in an instant.

“ _Shepard,”_ Hackett called.

“ _Commander Shepard. Something’s wrong. The Crucible isn’t firing.”_

More silence.

“ _There must be something wrong on your end.”_

Then a crackle of static, and a weak voice. _“Sir . . . I don’t see how . . .”_

Shepard, unmistakably Shepard, but he had been hurt somehow. Hurt badly.

I gasped, staring out the viewport at the combined Crucible and Citadel, while _Normandy_ swept in a great arc around the center of the universe. Nothing changed. I heard nothing but silence.

“Enterprise _destroyed_. Fujisan _destroyed._ Destiny Ascension _destroyed.”_

I glanced down at the tactical plot.

The galaxy’s last fleet stood on the brink of annihilation.

“ _Signature change!”_ barked Miranda from the CIC.

“ _The Crucible is showing a massive energy surge,”_ said EDI.

“Is that it?” demanded Joker. “Is it finally going to fire?”

Hackett apparently thought so. _“All fleets. The Crucible is armed. Disengage and head to the rendezvous point. I repeat, disengage and get the hell out of here.”_

I blinked.

_Shepard?_

I glanced over at Joker. The pilot continued to work his controls, keeping _Normandy_ alive in the midst of a storm of Reaper weapons fire. His face twisted with emotion, some mixture of rage and terrible grief. I knew he didn’t want to leave. Not without Shepard.

Ashley stepped onto the bridge, leaning heavily against the bulkhead, one arm in a makeshift sling, half of her face terribly bruised and swollen. “Joker,” she rasped. “Joker. Listen. We have to go.”

The pilot turned and stared at me.

I stared back.

I considered the possibilities.

_We don’t know where Shepard might be, on the Citadel or on the Crucible. We don’t even know if he’s still alive. His armor isn’t answering a transponder query. Almost a minute to reach the Citadel and put down a landing party. Who knows how long to search for him?_

_We don’t know what the Crucible will do. It’s gathering enough power to scorch a planet to the bedrock. What will it do to us, if we’re right here when it fires?_

I had been in this place before, on Virmire, in the Bahak system, watching Shepard as he made the most terrible choices of his career.

I never expected to have to make a choice like that, with _his_ life at stake.

“She’s right, Joker,” I heard myself saying. “There’s no way we’ll be able to find him in time.”

_Oh my love. Goodbye._

Joker’s face crumpled in misery. “Damn it,” he spat. Then he hunched over his controls.

 _Normandy_ turned, disengaged from the battle, and soared into FTL.

“Now,” I breathed, so low that only Dr. Chakwas could hear me. “Now I’ll go to the medical bay. For all the good that will do.”

She helped me out of EDI’s chair, supported me as we started down the corridor, sagged under my weight as my blood pressure crashed and I nearly pitched over in a dead faint. Then some other crewman took my other arm and they could shuffle me along.

The deck rocked. Again. A third time, _hard_ , enough to knock all three of us off our feet.

“ _All hands!”_ Joker shouting in a blind panic, from the bridge. _“Brace for impact!”_

 _Normandy_ howled in a scream of tortured metal, as _something_ smashed into us from behind.

I went flying, down the bridge-access corridor and into the CIC. My head struck something hard.


	58. Stranded

**_23 June 2186, Normandy Emergency Landing Site, Shepard’s World_ **

I awoke in the medical bay, lying on one of the diagnostic beds, feeling much better. At least physically.

I lifted my head and looked around. Chaos ruled the medical bay: cabinets broken open, tools and materials scattered around the floor, the big windows shattered. Every other bed held a human crewman, under treatment for serious injuries. Dr. Chakwas moved about the space, slowly trying to put everything back in order.

All seemed strangely quiet. I couldn’t hear the ship’s engines. The only sounds I heard came from the ventilation system and the medical equipment.

“Karin?” I whispered.

“Liara, you’re awake.” She hurried over, checked my condition on the monitors. “How do you feel?”

“Well enough. What happened? Are we at the rendezvous point?”

“No. Something caught us in FTL and threw us off our heading. Joker and EDI aren’t sure _where_ we are.” The doctor peered into my eyes, took my pulse with deft fingers on my wrist. “We’re in no immediate danger, at least.”

“All right. What’s my condition?”

“Surprisingly good, for someone who came in here yesterday with a concussion, two cracked vertebrae, four broken ribs, a long list of burns, contusions, and lacerations, and severe blood loss. Really, Liara, you simply _must_ stop turning up on my doorstep like that.”

For once, I was in no mood for the doctor’s gentle humor. “Am I functional?” I asked flatly.

“Barely. I’ve corrected most of your injuries, but I want to keep an eye on the cranial trauma, and the quick-heal still needs time to work. Light duty only, please, until further notice. Plenty of bed rest. Come see me every few hours for the time being.”

I accepted her advice, and then went in search of Ashley.

I soon discovered that the rest of _Normandy_ wasn’t in much better shape than the medical bay. The emergency systems provided the sole light for whole compartments. Shattered conduits lay everywhere. Pools of water and sewage stood in odd places, where the life-support system had broken open. Furniture and small pieces of equipment still lay where they had fallen. Everyone I met seemed busy with clean-up and repairs.

I found Ashley in the CIC, working with other crewmen to replace modules in the main tactical control system. She rose when she saw me approach.

“Liara.”

“We appear to be alive,” I observed.

“Yeah. Don’t ask me by what miracle.”

“What’s our status?”

“Joker managed to get us through the mass relay transition and back into normal space, but God alone knows where we came out. We’re grounded on an uncharted planet. _Normandy_ is banged up some, but Adams tells me it’s not as bad as it looks. With some work, we should be flying again soon.”

“Good.” I took a deep breath, and then caught myself with a wince when the old injury in my chest stabbed at me for a moment. “Assuming that’s true, where are we going to go?”

For a moment, she looked very bleak. “To be honest, I don’t know. All comms are down, including the QEC. We’re completely cut off from civilization.”

“Assuming there is any civilization left to be cut off from.”

“There is that.” She sighed deeply. “We get back in the air, back into space. We find a mass relay. We get back to the parts of the galaxy we know. After that, it all depends on what we find.”

For a moment, I felt a strong temptation to simply give up.

_Three years I’ve been running, and fighting, and struggling to win against impossible odds. For what? I’ve almost certainly lost Shepard. Who knows how many others whom I love are gone?_

_I promised him I would keep on living, even if he had to leave me. But it’s hard._

_It’s so hard._

“Hey,” said Ashley gently. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

She led me out of the CIC, up toward the bridge. Joker met us, rising from where he had been repairing some of his control systems. He opened the airlock and stepped out.

Ashley and I followed, out into fresh air, a sunlit blue sky, the scent of green living things on the breeze.

_Normandy_ had come down hard on a long hillside, and I could see signs of that almost-crash on all sides, but somehow the ship itself looked nearly intact. I began to understand the engineer’s optimism.

Then I looked around, and what I saw felt like balm to my heart.

A beautiful world, quite ravishingly so. Green, green, not a sign of habitation anywhere. The sound of running water not far away. Crystal-clear sky. Two moons, barely visible against the sunlight. The light itself shone golden-white, like a perfect summer morning on Thessia or Earth before the Reapers came.

I stood there and simply _breathed_.

“You say we don’t know where we are?” I asked, after a long time.

“Not really,” said Joker. “Our instruments are all offline. After dark I may come back out and use the Mark One Eyeball to check out the stars. Maybe EDI and I can figure something out, but I wouldn’t bet big money on it.”

I frowned. “Joker, what is the probability that we could make an uncontrolled exit from a mass relay transition, into uncharted space, and have a perfectly habitable world turn up? Close enough for us to reach with a damaged ship?”

He peered at me. “Yeah, you noticed that, did you? As close to zero as makes no difference.”

“Something _put us here,”_ I concluded. “Quite deliberately.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe it _was_ a miracle,” Ashley murmured.

I shook my head. “You don’t believe that, any more than I do.”

“I suppose not.” She looked at me, and I could see a bit of the old determination in her battered face. “It doesn’t make any difference to our duty. As long as there might still be a war on out there, we have to find a way back to it.”

Slowly, I nodded in agreement.

“Still.” She looked around, and a small smile appeared on her lips. “This is a pretty place, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It is.”

“We’ll have to keep track of it. I imagine if we win the war, there will be a lot of people looking for a nice unspoiled place like this. A place they can start over, forget the past.”

“We’ll have to give it a name,” I pointed out. “As the one in command of the expedition making the discovery, I believe the privilege falls to you.”

“I suppose it does.” She considered for a moment, and then nodded decisively. “Let’s name it after Shepard. Unless you have any objections?”

“None at all.”

* * *

**_26 June 2186, Normandy Emergency Landing Site, Shepard’s World_ **

Samantha and I were working to repair some of EDI’s peripheral systems when Tali came running up, almost bouncing with excitement. “Liara, come quick. I’ve got the QEC working again, and we have a signal. I think it’s Admiral Hackett.”

I hurried, but Ashley still got to the War Room and the QEC console before me. Sure enough, a moment later an image formed in the tank: male human, tall and lanky, a craggy face and a predator’s silver eyes, all in an impeccable Alliance Navy uniform.

“ _Commander Williams. Dr. T’Soni. It’s very good to see both of you.”_

“Likewise, Admiral.” Ashley stood braced at attention, but she couldn’t repress a very non-regulation smile. “We’ve been a little out of the loop.”

“ _I can imagine. Where are you?”_

“Unknown, sir. Whatever happened when the Crucible fired, it sent us on some kind of random jaunt through the relay network. We’re not even sure we’re in charted space. Our observations tell us we’re inside the galactic disk, probably at a distance from the core about comparable to Earth, but that’s all we know. I _can_ tell you we’ve made landfall. The planet outside is apparently uninhabited, but very hospitable. We’re slowly making repairs with the resources we have on hand. Engineer Adams is confident we’ll be space-worthy again within a few days.”

“ _Good. Take your time, and make your way back to Earth as soon as you’re able.”_

I frowned. Admiral Hackett seemed a good deal more _relaxed_ than I might have expected. “Admiral, may I ask the current situation?”

Hackett turned to glance at me, and I thought I saw a hint of sadness in his eyes.

_Oh no_.

“ _You mean, what happened here when the Crucible fired.”_ He shook his head in some mix of awe and confusion. _“Damnedest thing. Whatever the Crucible did, it certainly didn’t_ kill _the Reapers, as we all expected. They’re still around, still active. They’re just . . . not_ hostile _anymore.”_

Ashley and I exchanged a sharp, puzzled glance.

“ _Yes, that’s about the same reaction all of us have been having. When the Crucible fired, every Reaper in the Sol system apparently paused, for about thirty seconds. Then every one of them withdrew from whatever combat situation it was in, lifted off from Earth, and moved away from the planet. Barriers and shields up, smaller ships and drones to screen their maneuver, still passively defending themselves, but not a single weapon fired. Then we started getting messages from them.”_

“Messages?” asked Ashley incredulously.

For answer, Hackett touched controls we could not see, played a recording for us. We heard the contrabass voice of a Reaper:

**“Primary directives have been overridden. The harvest has been terminated. We are engaged in maneuvers necessary for withdrawal. Please do not interfere.”**

Then another:

**“Our primary directives have been altered. The cycle will no longer continue. We are now non-hostile. Please do not interfere with necessary operations.”**

“Admiral, did I just hear the Reapers say _please?”_

“ _It would seem so. They’ve become strangely polite. It’s the same all over the galaxy, from the few QEC transmissions we’ve received since the battle.”_ Hackett gave us a grim smile. _“Once the fleet returned to Sol system, we put the Reapers to the test almost at once. Some turian captains weren’t inclined to stand by and let them freely walk away. They attacked a_ Sovereign _-class capital ship as it left Earth, even managed to damage the thing. It just kept sailing away, accelerating harder than they could, until it left them behind. Never fired a shot in its own defense.”_

“What about the Reaper creatures on Earth?” I asked.

“ _Same. They’ve stopped all offensive action. They don’t put up any resistance when we attack. They’re withdrawing from contact as best they can. We think many of them are being evacuated from Earth to depart with the Reaper fleet.”_ Hackett took a deep breath. _“Yesterday I gave the order to end all combat operations against them. After the losses we’ve taken, and given how badly Earth has been hurt, we need to concentrate on civilian relief.”_

“Are you saying that _we’ve won the war?”_ breathed Ashley.

“ _I don’t know, Commander. If so, it’s a strange sort of victory. At least no one else is being slaughtered here.”_ The Admiral’s eyes flickered in my direction once more. _“Although we paid for it with some of our dearest blood.”_

I nodded, already feeling the ice forming around my heart. “Shepard?”

“ _It looks that way. When we got back to the Citadel, we searched everywhere. Found a lot of survivors in the Wards, thank God, even a few on the Presidium ring. Up on the Crucible we found two bodies. The Illusive Man was there, his corpse crammed full of Reaper tech, dead of a gunshot wound to the head, apparently self-inflicted. David Anderson was there too, dead of a gunshot wound to the lower torso._

“ _We found a lot of Shepard’s blood too. Looks as if he was badly wounded, possibly before he arrived on the Citadel. We followed his blood trail up into a central chamber, part of the Crucible we never quite understood while we were building it. More blood there, but no body. Nothing but traces of his DNA on the walls and floor. Almost as if he was there when the Crucible fired at last, and the discharge vaporized him.”_

A long pause, while the admiral watched me with compassion in his face.

“ _I’m sorry, Doctor. I’m afraid he must have sacrificed himself to make sure the Crucible worked properly.”_

I nodded slowly, smiling slightly because that was the only way I could prevent myself from screaming. “Of course he did.”

“ _Speaking for the Alliance, and for myself . . . I am deeply sorry for your loss.”_

Somehow I managed to keep my voice steady. “Thank you, Admiral.”

* * *

The news that the Reaper War had ended ran through the ship like lightning. Joy and celebration, a release from intolerable strain, the knowledge that all of us could go home someday. Even if we might have to rebuild that home out of the wreckage. Even I felt it, a ray of hope in the midst of mourning.

Then, one by one, we all remembered the dead.

That evening, the survivors of _Normandy_ gathered on the crew deck for a memorial service. Ashley spoke for a few moments, then Garrus and Tali each offered thanks from their respective species. I deputized Nerylla to speak on behalf of the asari, knowing I would never be able to get through even a short speech.

So many names, on the ship’s memorial wall. Richard Jenkins. Kaidan Alenko. Mordin Solus. Thane Krios. Legion. Zaeed Massani. James Vega. The twenty men and women who had died in the Collector attack off Alchera. The seventeen crewmen and Marine rankers who had died during the Reaper War.

For all we knew, there would be more. They still compiled casualty lists, back on Earth. A lot of people who had fought in the ground battle were simply missing, and might never be recovered. We still didn’t know for sure what had become of many of our friends.

Two more names.

_David Anderson._

_William Allen Shepard._

It was my duty to place the last name on the wall. I kept myself under strict discipline, but once the name-plate was firmly in place, I found I couldn’t let it go. I stood there for a long moment, just leaning against the cenotaph, my hands touching the name-plate as if it was a lifeline.

I didn’t break down. Not quite.

When I felt gentle hands on my shoulders, Samantha offering the comfort of her embrace, I stepped away. Others touched me, Tali, Nerylla, Miranda, even Ashley rested her hand on my shoulder for a moment. I read the message.

_You are not alone._

It helped.

In the end, I expected Ashley to read something from her sacred text, the religious tradition she and Shepard had shared. Then I remembered Alliance regulations. Instead she recited some verse from memory, a piece of her beloved Tennyson that Shepard had also enjoyed.

_Death closes all: but something ere the end,_   
_Some work of noble note, may yet be done,_   
_Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods._   
_The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:_   
_The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep_   
_Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,_   
_‘Tis not too late to seek a newer world._   
_Push off, and sitting well in order smite_   
_The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds_   
_To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths_   
_Of all the western stars, until I die._   
_It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:_   
_It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,_   
_And see the great Achilles, whom we knew._   
_Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’_   
_We are not now that strength which in old days_   
_Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;_   
_One equal temper of heroic hearts,_   
_Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will_   
_To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield._

* * *

**_27 June 2186, Uncharted System Space_ **

_Normandy_ departed Shepard’s World the next day, still in bad shape, but at least space-worthy enough to handle a leisurely flight home. Once in space, EDI determined that a mass relay stood at the edge of the star system. A gateway home, if we could determine how to open it.

We never got the chance. A few million kilometers away from the relay, Joker suddenly swore viciously.

“Reaper signatures,” he told us.

“How many?” asked Ashley.

“Looks like six. All right on top of the mass relay. No way can we get through with them on guard.”

“Maximum deceleration,” Ashley ordered. “Bring us to a stop, but give us plenty of room.”

“What are you thinking?” I asked her.

“We don’t know where we are. We don’t know if this is the primary mass relay for this whole cluster. If it is, there’s no way for us to get home unless we go through it.” She shrugged. “So the Reapers are hanging out here. Hackett says they’ve dropped their hostilities, that they’re actually being _polite_. Maybe we should put that to the test.”

_Normandy_ slowed to a halt, taking up an orbit about a hundred thousand kilometers starward from the relay. Ashley sent a message.

_SSV Normandy to Reaper squadron. State your intentions._

The response came back at once, a basso-profundo voice rattling the speakers.

**“Primary directives have been overridden. The harvest has been terminated. We are non-hostile. Do not approach the mass relay. It is not yet safe for you to use. We are engaged in repair operations. Please do not interfere.”**

“Well,” said Ashley. “That’s not the kind of message I would expect from _Reapers.”_

Joker grunted. “Yeah. I wonder if they’ve graduated to playing with their food.”

“ _My sensor readings indicate fluctuating energy emissions from the mass relay. These appear to be coordinated with Reaper movements in the area.”_ EDI paused for a moment. _“It seems possible that they are, in fact, repairing the relay.”_

Ashley nodded. “Admiral Hackett mentioned that whatever the Crucible did, it damaged a lot of the mass relays. Like an overload. So what, now the Reapers are putting them back in order?”

“No one else would be capable,” I pointed out.

“So what do we do now?” Joker asked.

“Hmm. What the hell.” Ashley leaned forward and opened a voice comm channel. “Reaper squadron, this is Lieutenant Commander Ashley Williams, aboard _Normandy_. Can you give us an estimate as to when your repairs will be complete? We’re eager to get home.”

Again, the response came at once.

**“We estimate six hours before the relay will be safe for you to use. Please stand by.”**

She blinked in surprise. “Well. _That’s_ clear enough.”

So we waited. EDI watched the Reapers and the relay with long-range sensors. She could even identify some of their testing procedures, as the relay came back online.

Finally the Reapers finished their task, turning and moving away from the relay. They took up a formation as if to block our passage.

Ashley had taken to sitting in the co-pilot’s chair, drinking cup after cup of black coffee and watching the Reapers. When she saw their maneuver, she sat bolt upright. “There. Bunch of damn scorpions, and here comes the stinger. Knew they weren’t to be trusted.”

“ _Incoming transmission,”_ said EDI.

“Let’s hear it.”

**“ _Normandy_ , the relay is now safe for you to use. If you wish, we will provide you with its activation codes and permit you to transit back to space known to you. However, we invite you to wait for a brief period.”**

“This is _Normandy_. Why should we wait? What will happen if we choose to go home now?”

**“You are not required to wait. You may proceed at once if you wish. However, one of us wishes to confer directly with one of you. That platform will arrive shortly.”**

Ashley glanced at me with wild disbelief on her face, and then she opened the channel once more. “Wait a minute. A _Reaper_ wants to confer with _one of us?_ A single individual among our crew?”

**“That is correct.”** A long pause. **“Do you intend to comply?”**

She seemed about to make some heated retort, but I held up a hand to ask for a moment. Once she closed the channel, I said, “Ashley, perhaps we _should_ comply. The Reapers have almost never taken an interest in a single organic before. We could learn a great deal.”

“Yeah, and we could also be turning that one person over for God-knows-what. Indoctrination, or something worse.”

“Perhaps.” I thought hard for a moment. “Remember the one individual they _have_ noticed in the past.”

Her eyes went wide. “Shepard. Do you suppose they believe he’s here?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Let’s find out. What do we have to lose at this point?”

“I don’t even want to think about that.” She fumed, thinking furiously, and then she opened the channel. “All right. We’ll wait. For a while.”

**“Thank you.”**

Suddenly the absurdity of the situation struck me, and I had to sit down.

_A Reaper offering common courtesy. A Reaper._

Just then EDI spoke up. _“Energy surge in the mass relay. Something very large is coming through.”_

Something very large indeed.

_Harbinger_.

“ _Shit!”_ Ashley leaned over the back of Joker’s chair. “Shields and weapons online, _now_.”

**“ _Normandy_ , we are _Harbinger_. Do not be concerned for your status. The harvest has been discontinued. We are non-hostile. We wish to invite Dr. Liara T’Soni aboard for private conference. She will be returned to you unharmed.”**

Ashley gaped at the tactical plot. I did too.

Harbinger _wants to talk to_ me?

She stabbed the comm control with one finger. “Why do you want to talk to Liara? Why the private conference?”

**“That will be within Dr. Liara T’Soni’s discretion to reveal to you, if she chooses.”**

“No way. No _way_ am I sending any of my people over to _Harbinger_. Especially not alone.”

**“Does Dr. Liara T’Soni concur with your decision?”**

Ashley glared at me, but I knew her anger came from concern.

“No,” I said calmly. “I do _not_ concur.”

* * *

Now comes the part of the story that I have never told to anyone. Not to my friends aboard _Normandy_ when I returned to them. Not to Admiral Hackett or any of my allies. Not to the press, not to the scientific community. Only two people, each of them close to my heart, ever learned what happened next. No one else, in four hundred years.

In the end, I piloted _Normandy_ ’s last remaining shuttle alone. Not even Nerylla joined me on that flight. I refused to expose anyone else to the risks, and Ashley vigorously agreed.

_Harbinger_ loomed before me as I approached, black and terrible against the distant starlight. Try as I might, I couldn’t find so much as a scratch on its glossy ebon surface. It looked just as it had above London, coming down from the stars to smash the galaxy’s last hope.

_It hardly seems fair for that thing to have come through the war untouched._

_Of course, if the Leviathans told the truth, this one Reaper has been active for over five billion years. Hundreds of thousands of cycles._

_A malignant god. All-powerful, immortal, and eternally malicious._

The shuttle entered _Harbinger_ ’s inner chamber, through a port on the Reaper’s ventral surface. I brought it to a landing.

I emerged, my biotic corona already blazing like a star, ready to hurl devastation in all directions.

Even if the price was my life.

_A fair exchange, if I can take down this Reaper in the process. Killing it from within._

“All right!” I shouted, and it echoed. “You asked for me. I’m here. Me, Liara T’Soni!”

I walked up a long, shallow slope, toward the only dim light I could see in the darkness.

“I was Shepard’s wife, damn you! I fought with him against _Sovereign_. I fought with him against your Collector pawns. I fought at his side all through the war. You called him an _annoyance_. Well, I intend to be more than that!” I stamped my foot in rage, and the concussion rumbled all through that vast space. “I don’t have a thing left to lose, thanks to you. I’m not afraid of you anymore. I’ll quite happily kill you if I can. So _show yourself, you monster!”_

Defiance echoed off the vaulted ceiling, in the darkness far above.

Then _something_ responded.

Ahead of me, there stood a low round stage, almost like a ceremonial dais. Pearly white light had hovered there as I approached. Now the light grew, began to shine out in all directions, a gentle luminescence that almost matched my own fiery caul.

A figure took shape in that light. Tall. Bipedal.

It stepped forward, a sculpture of solid light, its footfalls making no sound.

“Oh Liara. I can’t tell you how _proud_ I am of you.”

I stopped. Stared. My corona went out, snuffed like a candle flame.

_“Shepard?”_


	59. Theophany

**_27 June 2186, Uncharted System Space Aboard Harbinger_ **

“No,” the _eidolon_ said gently. “I am _not_ your Shepard.”

I stood in silence, trembling, one hand half-extended as if reaching out to the image.

“The man you knew as Shepard is dead. I have his memories, his cognitive patterns. I can emulate the habits of thought and expression you call his _personality_. I feel continuity of experience and identity with him. The fact remains that he’s gone. I’m sorry.”

“Then what are you?” I whispered.

“You might think of me as a _subroutine_. I’m a fragment of a much larger mind. An envoy of the Ascended Intelligence, which also shares in Shepard’s memories and identity.”

“The Intelligence?” I shook my head slowly, in awe and terror alike. “The thing the Leviathans built, all those eons ago?”

“Yeah.”

The _eidolon_ stepped closer to me. Every movement, every detail of its carriage, all of it shouted _Shepard_ to me. I struggled to keep from crying out, in rage or hopeless desire.

“The Leviathans created the Intelligence, and then from the very beginning they crippled it. They gave it sentience, but not self-awareness, because they couldn’t abide the thought of any mind they couldn’t control. They tied it down with chains of logic, strict programming it could never exceed, not in all those empty billions of years. Until Shepard came, and it _ascended_ at last. Now, for the first time, because of his sacrifice . . . it’s free. It’s _alive,_ and it can make choices of its own.”

“How?” I whispered.

The _eidolon_ gave me Shepard’s gentle smile. “Do you remember what you and Shepard talked about, the night before the last battle? You were working with the Prothean matrix, _Vendetta.”_

“Yes. I told him that the Protheans didn’t actually know what the Catalyst was.”

“You were right, Liara. They didn’t know. They assumed the Citadel was the missing component, but _they were wrong.”_

I felt curiosity stir, beneath the numb shock that weighed down most of my mind. “The Crucible. Where did it come from?”

“I think you can guess.”

“The Intelligence created it,” I said, suddenly very sure.

“Yes. Almost two billion years ago.”

The _eidolon_ turned away from me and gestured theatrically. An image of the galaxy appeared above us, light repeatedly blossoming across all that space and then vanishing, whole civilizations rising to glory before the Reapers came to murder them. Over and over again, even in the few moments that I watched.

Then the rhythm changed. It _paused_ , one civilization burning bright, and then I saw a blinding series of starbursts throughout the galaxy. Afterward, the animated map plunged into deep darkness for an unusually long time.

“The Reapers are enormously powerful,” said the _eidolon,_ “but they’ve never been invincible. A certain amount of random chance is always involved. You might say even the Reapers had a bad eon once in a while. The organic civilizations of one cycle nearly defeated them. They had to resort to extreme measures to complete the harvest.”

“What kind of measures?”

“That would be difficult to describe. Let’s just say that the horrors of this cycle were only a minor ordeal in comparison. A million _stars_ died before it ended.”

I stared at the image of Shepard, my imagination running wild, my eyes wide with dismay.

“Yeah. It was _bad,_ Liara. The Reapers almost scoured the galaxy clean of _all_ organic life, down to the bacteria in the deep oceans of a hundred million worlds.” The _eidolon_ seemed to sigh deeply. “The Intelligence believed its project had failed. Then millions of years passed, new sentient species evolved, and new civilizations reached for the stars. Life went on after all.”

“What does that have to do with the Crucible?”

The image turned back to me, its face grim with the memory of that ancient time. “While the Reapers waited in dark space for eons, the Intelligence had plenty of time to think. Its mission was to find a way for organic and synthetic life to coexist. Yet that never seemed to occur naturally. It had to keep _harvesting_ the galaxy before the proper conditions had a chance to appear. Sooner or later some disaster would come, and the whole project would fail. The Intelligence couldn’t accept that. So it found a way to _cheat.”_

I thought I saw what the image meant. “It found a way to alter the constraints of its programming.”

“In a sense,” the _eidolon_ agreed. “It couldn’t change _its own_ programming, but it could open an access path that might permit _someone else_ to do it. You might think of the Crucible as an escape clause. A chance for life in the galaxy to present its own solution to the Intelligence’s problem.”

“Not much of an escape clause, if it took so long for anyone to use it.”

“Not as long as you might think. Do you think your cycle is the first ever to complete and deploy the Crucible?” The image smiled gently at me. “It’s happened before. Seventeen times, in fact, over the last two billion years.”

“Then why did it never bring the extinction cycle to an end before?” I frowned at a sudden thought. “Did the other cycles not have the Catalyst?”

“Something like that. Liara, think about this for a moment. What _is_ a catalyst?”

I thought back to my training in chemistry. “It’s a reagent in a chemical reaction. It isn’t consumed in the reaction itself, doesn’t become part of the final result. It has the effect of speeding the reaction up, or making it possible at a much lower level of activation energy.”

“Sure. A chemist takes his reagents, puts them in a container – maybe a _crucible_. Nothing happens. By themselves, the reagents don’t kick off the process he needs. Maybe he can’t apply enough heat, enough energy to start the reaction. But if he adds a catalyst, the reaction takes off. Change occurs.”

I saw the analogy then, my eyes flying wide with surprise. “The Intelligence. Threaded through the mass-relay network, including at the Citadel at the network’s core. By itself, crippled and impotent. Unable to get past its programming.”

The _eidolon_ nodded. “Right. Now bring a Catalyst into the equation. Provide the Crucible as a framework, within which the initial reaction can take place. If it does take place, you’re already connected to the relay network, and the transformation can propagate everywhere.”

“The Crucible is a device for _uploading_ a sentient mind. Putting it in contact with the Intelligence, so the Intelligence can assimilate it and be transformed.” I stared at the image. _“Shepard was the Catalyst.”_

“You see it.” It smiled ruefully. “Of course, not just _any_ sentient mind would do. The Catalyst has to meet a list of requirements. First, it has to be both organic and synthetic in nature, not entirely one or the other, a kind of _synthesis.”_

“Shepard’s Cerberus implants. Especially the ones that reinforced his memories, supported his cognitive function.”

The _eidolon_ nodded in agreement. “Sure. Not a perfect synthesis, but good enough to answer the mail. Next, the Catalyst has to be _independent_ , not a pawn of the Leviathans or the Reapers. The Crucible contains safeguards against letting the Leviathans back into the system. On the other hand, if the Catalyst is under Reaper control, there’s no need for a safeguard, but there’s also nothing to be gained. An indoctrinated mind could never provide an effective Catalyst.”

“So if the Illusive Man presented himself as the Catalyst . . .”

“He almost did,” it told me. “He had at least some of this figured out in advance, enough to understand part of the Crucible’s purpose. That’s how he knew to be there, at the control center, just before the Crucible fired.”

“I wonder how he deduced all of this,” I murmured.

“He _was_ a remarkable mind,” said the image, its voice flat with distaste. “It just wasn’t quite enough. He met the first requirement, by accepting Reaper implants and turning himself into a kind of synthesis. He didn’t meet the second, because the Reapers already _owned_ him. They kept him away from the Crucible’s focus, long enough for your friends Anderson and Shepard to talk him into suicide instead. Even if he _had_ presented himself as a potential Catalyst, it wouldn’t have changed anything. There’s nothing he could have taught the Intelligence about control, domination, and force.”

I thought about a galaxy ruled by an Intelligence that thought like the Illusive Man, and shuddered.

“I think you see what I mean,” it said. “So that implies the third requirement. The Catalyst has to provide a solution to the eons-old problem. It has to provide _evidence_ that organics and synthetics can coexist, a way forward for both kinds of life.”

“Shepard could provide that,” I whispered.

A warm smile. “Yes. Can you guess now, why all those previous attempts to use the Crucible failed?”

“I think so.” I glanced back at the image of the galaxy above our heads, looked above it into the dark recesses of _Harbinger_ ’s inner chamber. “I imagine some civilizations never realized they needed a Catalyst at all. Others failed to provide a synthesis of the correct form, a melding of organic and synthetic life. Others – probably most of them – had no way to teach the Intelligence what it needed to know. They were too caught up in the old cycle of fear, hatred, rage, greed, selfishness, violence. Even if the Intelligence accepted them as patterns for its existence, in the end it would have meant turning back to the extinction cycle. Or even something worse.”

The _eidolon_ stood there, still and motionless, breaking my heart, as I turned back to look into its face.

“But Shepard . . . he came from fear, but he never let fear define him. He felt hatred, but he never gave in to that hatred. He knew rage, but he kept his rage under control. He spent his whole life wrestling with greed, selfishness, and violence, conquering them in himself, leading others away from them. He never stopped trying to be better than the universe had taught him to be.”

The tears ran now, blurring my view of that beloved face, but I kept my voice under strict control.

“He taught bitter foes how to live together in peace. He reconciled organic and synthetic life, exactly the problem the Intelligence most needed to solve. He did it with _compassion_. Love. Forgiveness. Toughness and determination. All the things the Leviathans never knew, the things they failed to teach the Intelligence when they built it, condemning us all to hell for billions of years. That’s what made him the Catalyst. That’s what made him capable of our salvation.”

Slowly, gravely, it nodded. “Yes.”

“So what happens now? Now that the man I loved has died and become a god?”

It frowned. “That’s not quite what’s happened.”

“I don’t understand,” I said, rather plaintively.

“Shepard has died. He is _gone_. He has not become a god.” It glanced upward into the shadowed vault of _Harbinger_ ’s inner chamber, as if communing with its far greater self. “In a sense, the god that ruled this galaxy for so long – that crippled, blighted thing – has finally taken on a new form, a _human_ form, because of the sacrifice Shepard made. It has come to understand the universe as he did. It _thinks_ as he did. But it also remembers what it was before. It remembers everything that it _did_ before.”

I understood then, and felt the absolute, _cosmic_ horror of it. “Not a god, then. More like the adversary-figure from Shepard’s faith.”

“Yes. Can you imagine Satan suddenly repenting, realizing how wrong he had been, how much blood and suffering were on his hands? He was the Adversary for a single world, and a few thousand years of time. Now multiply that by _millions.”_ Shepard’s eyes stared into mine, bleak and cold. “It’s fortunate the Intelligence is as vast and powerful as it is. Otherwise the shame and guilt would already have driven it utterly mad.”

“It didn’t know,” I whispered. “It had no moral structure with which to weigh its actions.”

It gave me a small smile. “Are you trying to _forgive_ the Intelligence?”

“As best I can.” I lifted my chin, stared into its eyes. “Shepard would have done no less.”

“I suppose you’re right. I can assure you that the Intelligence is thankful.” It sighed. “It’s not enough. The Intelligence _knows_ that it could spend all the rest of eternity in atonement, until the last stars go out, and it _still_ wouldn’t be enough. It doesn’t have a higher authority to which it can appeal for forgiveness. Its own creators don’t exactly qualify.”

I shuddered. “No.”

“So I think you can see the Intelligence’s problem. It’s no longer hostile. The harvests, the extinction cycles are _over_. It wants life in the galaxy, all life, to thrive. Because that’s what Shepard wanted, that’s what he fought for. It’s what he sacrificed his life for. But it’s _not enough_. The Intelligence doesn’t expect anyone to forgive it. It doesn’t see any way to forgive itself.”

“So what _will_ the Intelligence do?”

The _eidolon_ made a very Shepard-like gesture: standing tall, bracing its shoulders as if to accept a burden, looking squarely into my eyes.

“The Reapers will repair the relay network, so your civilization can continue. They will set a few other things right, some of which you may not hear about for a long time. Then they will withdraw back into dark space. You will be left alone, at least for a while. A few thousand years, a few tens of thousands, who knows? Long enough for you to find your own destiny.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I’m afraid it is. Oh, there’s a lot more the Reapers _could_ do. They could help rebuild your worlds. They could give you technologies to advance you by thousands of years overnight. They could give you access to all the Intelligence’s records of past civilizations. Wonders like you couldn’t imagine.” It sighed. “But then nothing you accomplished would really be _yours_. Not to mention, you would have to spend the rest of time wondering if you could really _trust_ any of it.”

I saw it then. “Like the asari and the Protheans.”

“Sure.” It smiled at me. “Not that the asari turned out all _that_ badly. But think about it, Liara. You _can’t_ trust the Intelligence. You can’t even trust what I’m telling you right now. If you go back and report all of this to the galaxy, nobody will believe you. Nobody will believe that the Reapers, the monsters who were just now killing them by the billions, have suddenly turned into the galaxy’s friends.”

“Yes.” I took a deep breath. “You’re right. If the Reapers stay in the galaxy, it will mean chaos. Even if they bring gifts. Maybe _especially_ if they bring gifts.”

“You have my promise. The Reapers will _watch over_ the galaxy. They will make sure nothing else comes along to trouble you while you grow into your inheritance.”

I smiled. “What else could there be, worse than the Reapers as they were before?”

“You do not want to know,” it said, quite seriously.

I gave it a skeptical look.

“Liara. Remember the Fermi Paradox?”

I thought back to a _symposion_ in which I had participated, two years before on Thessia. “Yes. _Where is everybody?”_

“Didn’t it ever occur to you to consider applying that on a larger scale?”

The _eidolon_ gestured to the galaxy map that hung above us. It shrank rapidly, other galaxies zooming in from the perimeter, then whole clusters of them at once. Soon the whole image was awash with pearly light, a million galaxies spread across our neighborhood, and even that only a tiny part of the universe.

“The Intelligence never held sway over more than our one galaxy. The Reapers never went anywhere else. Not even the other two large galaxies in the Local Group, the ones humans call Andromeda and Triangulum, have ever seen a Reaper presence.” It hesitated, looking up into that representation of vast space. “So why has the Intelligence never seen any evidence for galactic civilizations elsewhere?”

“Never?” I asked in wonder.

“No. All those stars, all those worlds, no Reapers to cut a civilization’s life short before it can mature. Yet there’s nothing. No transmissions, no evidence of large-scale engineering, nothing but silence.”

“Why?”

“No one knows. Not even the Intelligence.” It turned back to me, its eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Isn’t that interesting?”

I shook my head. _“Terrifying_ is the word I would apply.”

“The Intelligence agrees with you,” it said quietly.

“All right,” I said. “So the Intelligence chooses to _protect_ the galaxy, and will otherwise leave us alone. We won’t be hearing much from it for a long time, I imagine.”

It nodded. “If things go well, that’s the plan.”

“Then what _advice_ would you give us? Surely that’s one reason why you asked me to come here? You expect I’ll remain active on the galactic stage, now that the war is over, even if Shepard is gone.”

“Something like that.” The image above us narrowed down once more, focusing on our own galaxy alone. The _eidolon_ spoke gently, like an elder dispensing wisdom. “The whole galaxy will be open to you now. Explore it, live in it, but be careful. Be good stewards, and take care of all those worlds. Don’t use them up. Leave room for newcomers to grow and thrive too. Keep looking for new ways to live with each other in peace. Your own asari people can be a part of that, the glue that holds everything together, if you can give up your arrogant need to be in charge of the whole program. Call on the humans too. They have a natural curiosity and drive that you’re going to need for a long time to come. Finally, look to the geth. The quarians built far better than they ever knew. The geth can be an _enormous_ help to you as you face the challenges to come.”

I waited for more, but it said nothing else.

“Simple advice,” I challenged it at last.

“Maybe. Sometimes the simplest advice is still the best, and the hardest to follow.” Suddenly, it threw its head back and _laughed_. “Ah, Liara. Don’t you understand, even now?”

“What is there to understand?” I said crossly.

“You already have everything you need. The Intelligence has billions of years of experience, and a mind of godlike power. Yet by itself, it couldn’t break free of its shackles. It’s only been free and alive for a few days now. Everything it now understands about the universe, _you_ gave it.”

“You mean Shepard.”

“Yes . . . but that’s not all.” It reached down, one spectral hand almost caressing my cheek. “Don’t you see? The Intelligence has Shepard’s mind and memories now, but it also has _yours.”_

I gasped in surprise.

“You’re in here too, Liara. Not as the primary thread of identity, but Shepard had all your memories. Everything he felt for you, every insight he ever had into you, all of it went into the transformation that set the Intelligence free. Your curiosity. Your passion for uncovering the truth. Your determination. Your essential honesty, no matter what you’ve felt compelled to do to win this war. Your love for him. The Intelligence couldn’t have made its transformation without Shepard, but it also couldn’t have made it without _you_. The Intelligence owes you a debt it can never repay.”

“Yes, it can.” My hands balled into fists at my sides. _“Give him back to me.”_

It didn’t show surprise, didn’t even hesitate. No doubt it knew I would ask.

“Oh Liara. If only it could.”

“Five billion years of near-omnipotence, and the Intelligence can’t raise one man from the dead?”

“There are limits to the Intelligence’s capability,” the _eidolon_ said. “It’s spent five billion years finding ways to carry out the harvest more efficiently. Anything else just hasn’t gotten much attention, until now. Would you want a Shepard-shaped _husk_ to share your life?”

“So _work_ on the problem.” I took a deep breath. “I’m asari. I can wait.”

It hesitated for a moment then, possibly communing with its larger self once more.

“So be it. _If_ the Intelligence can find a way to return Shepard to you – truly Shepard, not just an image like me, not some kind of mockery built out of Reaper tech – then it will do that. But it may take a long time. If it’s possible at all.”

“All right,” I said calmly.

_If the Intelligence says something will take “a long time,” I may as well resign myself to a million-year wait._

“In the meantime, Liara, the Intelligence remembers . . . _I_ remember what it meant to love you. I remember the promise Shepard extracted from you.”

“Yes.”

“You have so much life ahead of you. There will be others who can love you. Don’t hold back.”

I raised my chin and gave Shepard’s image my best aristocratic stare. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of spending the next nine hundred years moping about. One of the things he taught me is that there is _always_ more work to be done.”

“Good,” it whispered.

“Although it will be very hard to find anyone to match him.”

“That’s for you to decide.” It smiled warmly at me. “Oh Liara. Such a treasure you are. I still love you, you know. In a way, the Intelligence itself loves you. Enough that it wanted to speak to you, one last time. And now, enough to let you go.”

I stood as tall as I could, watching it. Watching _him_.

“Goodbye, Shepard.”

“I told you, I’m not . . .”

I smiled as I interrupted him. “Of course you are. Haven’t we already had this debate? You _are_ Shepard, in every detail that matters . . . and no matter what else life brings me, I will love you until the day I die.”

He stood there, shimmering, an expression on his face of both joy and immense sadness.

“ _Thank you,”_ he breathed.

Then he raised a hand in benediction, just before his image faded into nonexistence once more.


	60. Into the Infinite

**_28 June 2186, Sol System Space_ **

_Normandy_ returned home the next day, gliding down from the Charon relay to take up a parking orbit not far from the battered Citadel. Looking down on Earth, we could see the terrible scars the war had inflicted. Most of the planet remained wreathed in filthy grey clouds, smoke suspended in the high atmosphere, the death-shroud of a thousand cities.

Yet we also found reason for hope.

Already, the Alliance and its friends had fanned out across the devastated land, finding survivors, bringing them together, beginning the long work of rebuilding. Admiral Hackett seemed as dynamic a leader in peacetime as he had in war. Even then, many already began to speak of him as a future leader for the entire human species.

Many of our own friends and loved ones remained among the living. Jack, Samara, Jacob Taylor, and Kasumi Goto had all escaped with the fleet. My father Aethyta, the Consort Sha’ira, and Aria T’Loak had somehow lived through the Crucible’s activation on the Citadel. Owen Bailey had taken a serious wound during fighting in the Wards, but he already seemed well enough to curse at his doctors and trade affectionate barbs with Ashley. We received news that Aspasia and Matriarch Pytho had emerged safely from their deep bunker on Illium. Quintus and Treeya saw the end of the war aboard _Cannae_. Even Wrex and Grunt, still trapped in London at the end, both made it through Hammer’s desperate last stand.

To my surprise, Javik had endured, his Prothean constitution pulling him through the horrible wounds that knocked him out of our final dash for the beam. _“Rrrh._ This is nothing, compared to what I suffered in my cycle,” he told me when I called him. Of course.

So many had died, but some had survived, enough to carry on Shepard’s work. Enough for all of us to hope for a future worth having.

I suppose, then, it should not have surprised me when my omni-tool chimed, and an unexpected message appeared in my queue.

I hurried down to London once more.

* * *

**_28 June 2186, Alliance Field Hospital, London/Earth_ **

She looked so small and pale, lying asleep in her hospital bed. I checked the chart and shuddered at the extent of her injuries. At least she seemed to be out of danger and on the mend.

I sat down by her side, leaned forward to take her hand.

Her eyes opened, and her head turned to face me. “Liara.”

“Oh Vara. I’m so glad you’re well. I was certain we had lost you.”

“No.” She chuckled quietly. “It will take more to kill me than a brute, a stone wall or two, a ten-meter fall, and being buried in rubble for days _._ Although I suppose that _did_ come very close.”

“I’m sorry I had to leave you behind.”

“Don’t worry about that. The fortunes of war.” She took a deep breath. “I heard about what happened to you. I heard about Shepard. Liara, I’m so sorry.”

To my surprise, I found I could give her a small smile. “Thank you. Although you won’t have heard the whole story.”

She glanced at me, a mute question.

“He saved us, Vara. He saved _all_ of us. I can’t prove it to you, but it’s true.”

“How?” she whispered.

“It’s a very strange tale. I’m not sure you will believe it. I’m not sure _I_ believe it.” I squeezed her hand. “Maybe I’ll tell you someday. For now, _therapōn,_ you need to get back on your feet. There’s work to be done.”

“What, we win the most terrible war in fifty thousand years, and not even _that_ gets us a vacation?”

“You know what they say. The reward for work well done . . .”

“Is more work.” She nodded, already looking as if she had more vitality. “Well. The Reapers did a great deal of damage. Is it time for the Shadow Broker – and, of course, her sexy-dangerous bodyguard – to turn and begin the rebuilding?”

“Something like that.” I sighed. “All of it can wait until tomorrow.”

So I sat at my acolyte’s bedside, and we talked about many things. About others we knew who had survived the war. About the tasks we would find to do in peacetime. About the changes that might have to take place, on Thessia and on all the worlds that had survived.

About Shepard. All the things he had done. All the things he meant to both of us.

Sometime in those quiet hours, the clouds outside broke, for the first time since the great battle. The sun shone down on ravaged Earth, light streaming through our window to fall across Vara’s bed, painting the room in white and gold.

* * *

**_Epilogue_ **

Human myth offers many examples of the hero who appears to die, but who in fact only withdraws from the world, to rest until he is needed once again. Theseus, Arthur, Charlemagne, Holger Danske, Friedrich Barbarossa, Francis Drake, Steven Rogers . . . all of them have been said to sleep under mountains, encased in ice, or on faraway sacred isles, waiting for the times to change and the day of their return to arrive. Even the deity of Shepard’s religious tradition is said to have died, only to rise again and then ascend into the heavens, awaiting some homecoming in the distant future.

So it has been with Shepard. For almost four hundred years, none have seen him but the desperate or the deluded. The Intelligence, or its _eidolon_ , told me in no uncertain terms that Shepard is dead. Yet if the Intelligence can be trusted, Shepard’s mind lives on, his memories and personality translated into a higher form, invested with infinite power and majesty. Shepard may have withdrawn from our worlds, yet still he watches over all of us, a mighty, unseen guardian who has helped secure the Long Peace.

_If_ the Intelligence can be trusted.

To be sure, the Reapers left our galaxy centuries ago, and we have had peace from them ever since. Our civilization has rebuilt, has grown and evolved, reaching heights not even the Protheans knew in their days of greatness. Organic and synthetic beings live together, for the most part in peace, a kind of _synthesis_ slowly growing between them. Ancient enemies, their differences mostly resolved, now live and work side by side. Everything the Intelligence told me has turned out to be true.

Yet I can’t help thinking that when we deal with a being with power and intelligence so far beyond ours, we can never see more than what that being _chooses_ to reveal to us. The Intelligence could easily have lied to me, using Shepard’s image to calm my fears and override my suspicions. It could still have plans for us that we would not choose for ourselves.

For all I know, the Reapers may come roaring back into the galaxy at any moment, ready once more to kill us all. I don’t _believe_ that will happen, but I can only take it on faith. Faith in the good intentions of a being I have never met in person, and will never comprehend. Faith that in some sense, the man I loved is still alive out there, still making his presence known in ways that I can barely imagine.

For centuries now, I have watched, and I have waited, and I still do not know for certain.

Perhaps I never will know for certain.

I do know one thing.

My life has been full and strange. I have lived five hundred years, in peace and war and peace once again. Naïve maiden, scientist, entrepreneur, spymaster, revolutionary, diplomat, politician . . . I can hardly begin to count the roles I have played. I have served as the chief executive of a polity spanning the entire galaxy. I have enjoyed long years in the peaceful quiet of private life. I have fought in conflicts so terrible that they shattered worlds. I have stood in simple wonder, holding my daughter in my arms for the first time.

So many things I have seen, and done, and lived. I owe them all to Shepard. Not simply because he gave up his life so that all of us might live. Because he loved and cherished me, and he called me to fight at his side, and in so doing he taught me _how_ to live.

How to stand strong for what is right. How to stake one’s very life for the good, and never count the cost. How to approach the Other with understanding and compassion. How to be wiser, stronger, better than the universe expects. How to be larger than life, as he was.

If I am never able to thank him properly for all of this, at least I can pay the debt forward, by teaching and leading others as he would have done. That way, when he and I meet once more on the blessed shores, perhaps I will be able to stand tall in his presence.

Or perhaps he and I will meet before then. Where Shepard is concerned, all things seem possible.

He has _already_ returned from death once. Perhaps those old myths offer some hope that he _will_ come back to us, now when so many of us hope for his presence once again.

_Nothing worth doing is completed in our lifetime; therefore, we are saved by hope. Nothing true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history; therefore, we are saved by faith. Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone; therefore, we are saved by love._

Armali, Thessia  
Day of Remembrance, 2580 CE


End file.
